Rooted from the garden of our innocence
Cut down crosstown, cross time
Casting your petals, careless, wind-borne,
spilt from your cup like wine
Do you, can you, remember it,
locked in those vases on the mantle?
Is there something that can tie you back, speechless,
except time?
We could be orchids in the ocean
We could be lilies on the vine
We could be cast in graven images
without divine intervention.
Stripped down, pared back to nothing,
Left out shivering in the cold;
Is there anything remaining here
That’s not been sold?
Packed up, headed on the highway
Moss-free, like a rolling stone;
What do you do to keep from fading,
from growing old?
We could be tulips at the table
We could be roses in the rain
We could be set free from our dependence
On each others’ pain
Who’s left the garden gate wide open?
Who’s picked the flowers by the way?
Who’s left to say she loves me, loves me not?
Who’s going to replant, come May?
We could be orchids on the oceans
We could be roses in the rain, sometimes
We could wake to find ourselves immaculate,
Divine creations
Misguided applications
of divine intention.
JUL 1991
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