MORUS RUBRA
I
(1878-1920)
Skulking in the dense
green arbor
The rain crow's muffled drumming
echoes
“Herzensschatzi komm”
Chiding the empty clouds
the windy grey
He is locked away
in a private asylum in an
exclusionary discourse
He is summoning fortune passionately
Slowly
Repeatedly
“Komm”
“Herzensschatzi komm”
Flushing out the grey catbird--
With only an instant to recognize
the black cap
The rufous rump
This other recluse
This other illicit lover
It's the virid worms that
bring them
Web weavers
Silk spinners
Tasty little mouthfuls
Later, the dark-staining berries
will siren
Social waxwings queuing in
fruit-ladened ranks
A fire-bucket brigade of
noise & generosity
But for now the rain blows
over
It is this cage of steaming
hollow air
This endless waiting in abandonment
This endless call of
“Herzensschatzi komm”
II
Reaching high, I gather
the ripe fruit
Hanging like tightly scrolled
nipples--
Dark berried
Aureoles of broad green
I take them between my lips
one by one
Roll them with my tongue
My fingers are red then purple
My tart mouth stained as
well
Silver bowl emptied with stiff
stems
I can only imagine what we
could have done with these berries
Had you been here
4.27.2002/5.4.2002
Ingrid
Karklins
