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The brackish roots of river pine |
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Anchored in my curving spine |
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Bend to the whims of wind's design |
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And I lay down at your side |
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Above the brine of reds in clay |
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A swollen angel oaks bouquet |
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In the red-winged blackbird's eyes of grey |
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A saltwater tear resides |
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But the sand and the earthen parapet |
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Silts into this rivulet |
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The bluffs and the banks will soon forget |
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A single tear was cried |
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And in this spawning ground it blooms |
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The nectar and the petal plumes |
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A purple swallow now exhumed |
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From the river that has died |
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Palmately spread delphinium |
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Bachelor-buttoned malva comes |
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To be your lilied bride |
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The crimson of rinoculous |
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Gardenia and dianthus |
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The bloodless ivory water-lotus |
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Sweetly opens wide |
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But even the most fondly named |
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Rooted and green leaves framed |
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Surely must come to be reclaimed |
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Beyond the great divide |
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Without a voice left to sing |
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With waterlogged and heavy wing |
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With peaceful eyes unsuffering |
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A pigeon floats in the tide |
