Monday, April 27, 2015

as spring came

the azaleas spoke but only god could hear them

you ached for a lasting warmth to lay in
you understood

lots of things: 

how to unearth a fossil in a hotbed: that time of the cow's rib, the saber tooth, 
the mandible: one bone every two to ten minutes: the luck

the sorrowful bees, the honey that oozed like molasses (from the troubled hive
where we met-- veiled-- your velvet voice a balm)

the sacredness of vowel sounds, drawn out from the mouth to god in hymns of

& yet the azaleas so early to bloom, spoke and didn't compare
themselves to the dandelions    to the roses     to anything & you understood, again

how like girls they are    blooming    tall &bright, even in Spring's early, harsh cold

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