A Cargo of Green Hearts
you will have to excuse me for having never
been good at blind devotion to anything
except love, whose stigmata is the rose
whose politics are quiet whose platform
is as low as the knees. it's true, I'm a troublemaker
and advocate of the devil, put me in a
cathedral and I'll point out the weak brick.
but for love, whose mason is the blue-eyed
sky, watch as I shed my coat of Bear
it's safe to approach me when I'm like
this with my nose in the dust, with a bindi
of wild strawberry embedded in my forehead
I could be killed so easily, trampled by a mob
of teenagers, crushed by the leaf of a single feather
its predestined I'll die this way, flattened on I-93
a jaywalking florist with a wildflower bouquet.
when you find me killed that way, the coat of
Bear is yours. maybe you will discover as I have
that only in putting that jacket on can you know
what it is like to take it off. dams are cracked this way.
if you are wise not merely curious, keep a cup handy
to bail out to boat of this world. to keep yourself
from drowning. whatever blood you can't catch is yours.
with the rain
an old sorrow arrives.
what kneels on my bed
what touches my face:
while outside, the trees
and the green grass are
taller than before
are singing some old song
about going to the sky.
Durga, how cleverly
you break me down
into these words
that keep rising up.
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