Friday, October 10

Sequence

I.

The almond tree, the flower from underneath the almond tree
by that fence, the stone fence
It blew and upturned like sea plants
like hands and bowls asking
The almond tree in spring.

II.

I bathed in almond oil and milk, skin
inned the little red tub
when I was a child we ran out of soap
My mother she washed my hair out like so
many little galaxies of black, dusted black
She polished me so I gleam-smiled and
broke my teeth on the red walker
Played with sticks of red and black, their meetingsounds
hollow.

III.

Now if I saw an almond tree in the ground I would not
stop to say it is an almond tree I would
never think to know the flower which grows on it, where
inside the carbon has married an N, that
the carbon inherits the end and I

begin to ignore, eat
the aspic taste I learned in childhood was wrong,
That bitter almonds are spat before the carbons inside poison
the first erring step - inside the grown arsenic
taste lines mouth and twists it like grass leaves breaking

IV.

The almond tree. Its flower has five white leaves.


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I rather want to call this "The problem of describing trees" but maybe "Envy over other people's poems" is more apt, ha.