June 28, 2011

Dear knower of secrets and fates

I don't have a picture, because yesterday's wobbly study of a pair of old pumps didn't look that great, but I wrote this poem.  

Dear knower of secrets and fates

Will it happen at dusk? Will I be
Sniffing the last Lily of the Valley?

Will it happen at dusk, while
Ringing the Solomon's Seal?

Today and yesterday and tomorrow
Everything I put in my mouth is fruit, seed, or yolk.
Blueberries, apples, broccoli and peas.

Will it happen? Tell me.
Breaking the stamen of a wasted tulip,
Curled under the maple tree,
insects a-lighting?

Or will I be sleeping, tell me,
it's better if I can prepare, life
slipping from me by morning
as I stoop to grab socks from the bin?

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