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The Journal of Shirin Swift left
12/07/2006 06:29 a.m.
what sylvan hand left this poem pinned to my blouse
or the rosy word leafed in that child's hair
the petunia has opened down, her parasol
reversing the frailty of her drawn eyes
who, in all their silk armor, left a plea on my lips, a petition
in my fist, a plantation of bees in my gut
| Member Comments on this Entry |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/07/06 at 07:16 AM Just wonderful. Your images are always surprising, and always feel true. I love the intimacy of the sylvan hand pinning the poem to your blouse. And I love the idea of the rosy word in her hair. We have a similar tactile poetic sense of words and so my response to this is strong. all the images here have that mix of touch and intimacy and one cannot get more descriptive, humorous or unusual than claiming you have "a plantation of bees" in your "gut". Delightful. |
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