His Opus

His Opus

from Moraine

Dog peruses the oleanders,
prodding with his body among
the poisonous leaves, lifting scent
into his snout through the trembling
black doors of his nostrils. He gives
every plant this close reading, ponders
each one, and the stolid lamp posts,
the hydrants, the bottlebrush’s wizened
bark. Go, I tell him, You haven’t peed
since sunset yesterday! I lead him
to the old familiar places but they
won’t do. He looks at me, his eyes
mutter something about a muse,
and I understand. We cross the street
to the homes with lawns and again
he is reading the complex layers
of scent left by his peers on lawns,
on trunks of birches, eucalyptus.
That’s it. Enough! I say, guiding him
back toward home. Finally in dry weeds
behind a palm tree the muse speaks;
Dog balances on three legs to compose
his latest opus.

Midsummer

Midsummer

from Moraine

I want to stay in this green world.
I want midsummer to last forever
but August and September crowd the door.

The day are growing short;
night arrives now in the sevens.
I want to stay in this green world

Where my courtyard is full of hopping birds
and sun glows clear in liquidambar leaves.
I want midsummer to last forever.

Regret belongs to the language of others.
Winter belongs in the shade of the eaves.
I want to stay in this green world.

September will pass and then October;
I will embrace them as sisters from heaven.
I want midsummer to last forever

Yet soon I will yield to the kiss of winter
and time will release me from life’s bright fever.
I want to stay in this green world;
I want midsummer to last forever.

Moraine

Moraine

from Moraine

The dentist shows me photographs
of my teeth, their vintage fillings
glisten like mountain lakes,
their alpine peaks ground down
from years of carrots, nuts,
popcorn kernels. He shows me
fissures in the rocks, places
where the silver has turned
into wedges that threaten
to split my molars into shards.
It’s all happening now:
my knees buckle as I’m walking,
my uterus is tired, my feet deformed,
my nails have taken in fungi
my mind is heavy with memories
and opinions it has picked up
along the way like a glacier
acquires rock debris.