by Andy Colpitts
Centuries old, you won your name
when rats navigated our feet,
chewing our heels,
pus erupting from unhealing sores
Even skeptics bow,
inhaling your steam
Whispers of yesteryear
caught on orange wind
rustle spring cravings.
Puffing away like the cornerstore man, leathery skinned,
scorched by the sky.
Purging and cleansing
each room in turn,
your braid is burnt, blacken her shells.
I was led from the glade,
the grove, to the boundary of the fence
where sun silhouettes are etched behind my lids.
Forced kisses and lying delusional,
Around that unused pit we charred your flesh for forgetting.
Now, even now, I smell your perfume
in each elixir drunk and roast chewed.
Silos full of cat tongue rough you
Your wisdom (once again of that timeless chant)
haunts my twilight.
Your grey-green smile is my call.
Never more to yearn for that cat tongue rough
you clean me of his wound.
Sunlight saunters upon the rows, stopping.
Extending the arabesque
Ever so often it bends.
side by each, but you
still peering around this somewhere-else.
A young girl in linen
(the sun adorns you). but
Desert trees were never so determined
to reach up
to dig down
I dare not disclose that you are
here just now. This somewhere else was not made
but cast away these premonitions—revel in the day. Sun-bright chases your scrawny limbs. Nourish
you—will someday suck you dry. Tied up with white cotton string. A pendulum. You’ll be revered,
adorning sweet meats.
Grew long and died faster.
your arabesque to Handel,
myths spoken in your honor.
Daughters will bear your name
in rows the sun and I dawdle
I caress you thrice
to carry you with me,
hanging like an aerialist, far above our heads.
or else a bouquet of flowers from some demoiselle’s hand dangles
among Sisters and Brothers you gaze
upon this spinning compass, North-Northeast.
slammed doors and tickling bells
jostle you, indifferent
this way and that
your Sisters and Brothers will follow next year.
Andy Colpitts is a Senior at Brown studying TAPS (Theatre Arts) and Comparative Literature (Literary Translation). He is from the north country of New Hampshire and his (current) herb of choice is rosemary.