The Pruning
Deadhead
the ground
where petals lay,
not the blossomed
branch, rivered
& riveted
this garden,
this square
of pear & pine.
Unlock
the pruning knife,
cut the roses
back to thorn,
back to distel,
to angled light.
Be frugal,
light-handed,
bent shrubs
are rain-heavy,
grit-weary,
saddled with
the days
of May’s
cloud weeping.
This June
cuts back
to essential
bone, the boughs
watered
& wounded.
Fold your knees
before the muted
ground, listen
to the sparrow’s
unhinged flight,
this garden’s
early rains,
this garden’s
ear & pain,
steady hum
of the pruning
shears, the shift
of evening light,
moving
like open
palms, across
the tunneled earth,
the silent mound.
Dandelions
Scattered pod,
be electric
on my path,
make me weary
in crowded
company, make
my exit
swift, cleaner
than the sun
shining on
my back,
your
propeller wings,
envy of angels,
their prayers
cannot compete
with the cathedral
of your scattered
seeds. Altar of
filament,
random in
desire,
your lust
for rooting
is earthbound.
I incline to
light’s glimmer,
the side
of lunar shadow
heavy on
the morning dew.
But I confess,
I am neither
friend or foe,
I greet you
as necessary weed,
your face
of thorns, elusive.
Postscript on Dandelions
The garden has only known weeds, and you, slender plant with spiked leaves, your presence is light-powered, sun-chased. Your head a globe of silver seeds and they are multitude, riding the winds, splitting your many-cornered hearts to escape the rootedness of your birth. Who decides the trajectory? The destination? In the books, you are lion’s tooth, edible to many tongues, food for linnets, moths. Your seed-head, spherical, a traveler of secret distances, your taproot a fuel engine, bringing up nutrients for shallow-rooting plants. If you succeed to live over 30 million years, you will succeed to live another million. Your many doors are fluid, open by day and closed at night. Edible your florets, your leaves. From Alaska to Kazakhstan, bring your hair-like mantel, turn your clocks. Bridge the continents, your ruderal species will thrive, on disturbed land they will survive.
