UNDER GREEN

    April 2006

1

April is the

first poem too

young for cruelest

time I wrote when flowers

wrote rainbows wrote birds too

young for memory then and

now is only just today my

love is well come home

2

first daffodils forsythia flash

the old gray world with grade

school yellow, scilla grounds

it blue, one tulip’s red with yellow

pistil stamens still the same

3

Down the street from the green

school where lines form, the red

school waits

                      My love checks

his blood now, wet rubies

on his fingers

                         Love lives

on what is lost, draws

blood, colors us in

4

Hawk got dove

today. Sharp-shinned

hawk. Mourning dove. Beside

the garden pulled feathers, plucked

down, pecked at entrails wet with

blood, ate, flew low with

what was left— bird

heavy with bird

5

Sudden snow dusts ground,

maples red with early flowers,

snow turned rain will bring them

down, wash blood from broken

bodies, push up and out

green, out hidden leaves

6

Tulip closed against

the cold,

                 snow bent it

down, made a smooth white

egg of it,

                 its own heat

broke it open red

7

with him my love better

now each day break but

days do not begin end

break have never been

break so much with any

one break since I break

I hold will not break

8

Fifteen years, thousands of

days, millions of minutes

passed since that April

day when I, my own

one as-long-as-we-both-

live Love, said: Yes. Yes I do.

9

Days before, He came to the city

named for peace, where there was, where

there is, temple or mosque, no peace, riding

an ass or the colt of an ass, riding on branches

or clothes strewn in His path—

                                            But if the city

gates with different names, gates built on top of

gates, could lift their heads, if the stones,

bombed, refused, could rise together—

10

In the newly discovered good

news, the disciple named betrayer

is asked to sacrifice the man

that clothes the master: flesh

shed, not risen, death the good

gate to that which is no body

11

New seeds, red and green, male and female on one

tree, or meeting in air, buds like the buttons

that open the body—

                                         But papery pale

beech leaves blaze the trail that leads

to the hill where just-dug graves—

12

tree gone willow

last winter fallen

taken stump hollow

hole now

and air where last

year vertical script

wrote early spring’s

green news

13

Last year lambs, panicked by our

traffic, ran under their mothers, we

ate them later, we love the humble,

we eat and drink at the wooden table,

but the lamb was before the slaughter

of thousands in Egypt, and now in Eden

thousands, and bombs for the next

country, they say, war, we love that too.

14

Traffic halts, trees bleed

seeds beside the road,

reddened air, sudden

clouds, Behold the time

is coming, or is it come

this holy day of death?

15

April’s more

red than green,

                              when I wrote at seven

the busy maple I didn’t know what

the maple was doing,

                                         but now I’m fixed

on magnolia: rose bullets on one side

of this tree and opening open-

ing open on the other

16

But would one want

one’s body, made to make more

bodies, take, eat, heavy with bodies, would

one want one’s body back?

                                       Enough

the empty tomb, shed clothes, the lily, its open-

ing throat, broken shell, out and into

air that molds itself to all this is

17

Back through all that was before

I could meet you on the corner

I wrote, a second “April,” another

you, but here we are, bodies not

the bodies they were, yours

healing, mine on hold, I thought

this would be for love, Love,

but it’s body. Love’s body.

18

hyacinths now, follow the scent, trees

white where they will be green, but

you walk more slowly now, and in

the woods we walk on what’s

fallen, we walk on rot

19

Fallen, we say, but in war

movies we watch it’s

bodies being

felled: in air

for a moment,

where, as if toward beds,

they fall back, breathless, taken

20

sweet showers    cruelest month

lilacs last    green endures    lines

drawn between pale green leaves

dotting trees and brown exposed

where there was snow, mixed, he said,

what we want with what we’ve had

21

Then, beneath the green cave, the red

room paled, I had no room, I wrote,

for anyone, was early done, but

you have opened a house, young

blood flushes my skin when come

sweet thoughts of your my body

22

Room in mind for body while

body rests, waits,

                              room in deeper

mind of dream for what’s denied,

not recognized,

                         room if we re-

cognize, know over again each

other, for you and me, two

all day in this one house

23

Trout lilies shooting through

dead leaves stamens stretching

red pistil pushing yellow

up—

            You lying low then sitting

standing lying down again with me

all well again you are my spring

24

Nothing new in this green and

red, them and us, leaves sheer

like lingerie, deeper now, trees

crotched, deeper, roots—no,

we’re not, we cannot root or

rise, we’re crouched between

25

creeping phlox on an old

grave, someone’s still coming up

through the stems of these rooted green

others, our distant relatives that

rise, start over and over

26

Touch skin to touch

muscle move blood find

bone

            to make blood

rise, blood held by veins

flesh skin

                  to meet dear

body flesh Love not in blood

shed but in that clear

rush to see through body

27

Trees finding greens, coloring in

out to the edges, skeletal shadows

becoming shade, landscape painting

as it erases itself—

                              our lessened

bodies learning each day to be

what they are becoming

28

Out, or coming out,

dogwood, white and pink lace,

bride and her maid, lilacs breaking

their dark knots—

                              We are out on this

safe street, while a war, not broken out

but being made, is making more wars

29

still blue through half-

green trees and you

beside me now

safe, but

what are those

pale bee-y things

paused hawk-

like in our path?

30

Heavy with memory, this, old

Aprils, self with self, my,

it, lilac with lilac

will not fly—

But body still moves

to body, like to like or almost

like, even now I am learning

love in the school of desire