TRAGACANTH
                    Maybe. 
Or gum from the peach
tree
in the Hungarian back
yard —
how many years.
I had an alchemical
laboratory in the
cellar
and didn’t know
it. 
I thought it was all
logwood,
spirit lamp, daydreams,
silverfish,
window screen, dust, dark
weeds outside,
the peach tree
wrapped in burlap, sulfur,
test tube, book. 
But it was
alchemy. 
My parents told me so
by leaving me and it
alone.
                                                            3
June 2013



Sunday on Cuttyhunk, cold bright wind from the sea, big waves rolling in.  We’re happy to be here.

When
the violin climbs the stairs
and
the cello dithers down below
we
know an assignation’s forward,
a
pretty girl up there

with
her arms full of violets.