Tag Archives: photography

The untamed, the cultured and civilized
gone wild, hungry for power, rise
out of the cornfields and the canyons

of big city streets, from behind camo
curtains to poach another prize beyond
the reach of more common men and

women if they can—stars on their own sets
that upset the rest of us. That we envy wealth
and freedom, independence—the quick buck

gained by deceit as standard practice
for capitalists and politicians. Take down
the statues of Robert E. Lee, a horseback,

we have models of our own to cast
and enshrine in every city square
for our poor youth to look up to.

It’s Easter spring and the hills are green
as they should be, golden fiddleneck
and skiffs of popcorn flowers in between

and we go back to floating scraps
of wood down furrows, sixteen-penny nail,
a mast for leaves. You would retreat

to your throne and princess dreams
in the forks of the walnut tree beyond us all,
or we would drive a team to town

from the dusty seat of the steel-wheeled
manure spreader to visit friends, names
we both remember now after sixty years.

We were turned loose to entertain ourselves,
play with our imaginations before TV
and cell phone screens—more grateful now.

                                                    for my sister Ginni

I have had the luxury
of not remembering
every story about me,
the mundane details,
embellished and edited,
recounted rhythmically
as if told often to others.

I can dress the rain
goddesses in gossamer gowns,
pen them dancing bare-limbed
with the sycamores
across the creek beckoning
wildly—let myself be drawn
into the image of a poem.

So much is make-believe
looking back into the mirror,
so much forgotten purposely.
I am not ready to retire
to whittling the past
into wooden statuettes
with so much more to do.