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Septiembre 21, 2005
Midsummer
His shoulders shook
where he knelt to retch
at the edge of the woods.
I stood there stupid,
bleating his name,
dragging across the gravel
road the cooler full
of lemons, medications.
He lay down after
near the water under
a pine and almost slept.
I sent my heart on
home to greet us.
But as we rose, nations
of swallowtails rose
with us, who'd sought
the shade, the moss
currents of the pond's
stone basements.
They climbed the spiral
air like tiny brides
trailing some lantern
on a stair beyond us,
or wanting us to wear them
there, lit in our hair like
garlands, rode our shoulders.
Back in the car we
watched them spread
a raiment in the road,
midsummer yellow.
I drove while my beloved
walked ahead, herding
the swallowtails into the trees.
Deborah Digges
Posted by sarita at Septiembre 21, 2005 10:48 PM