Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2011 v10n1

     for L.K.C.

Of pollen freed
           from anther drifts
                       into woods, what
naturalists term
           “a troubled landscape”
                       and you call “beautiful.”
           you knew that
                       humans trouble
all we touch
           though that
                       was intuition.
To translate farms,
           houses, sheep
                       and cows, cities,
sewers, power
           stations, satellites,
                       spies, the grab for
power like the grab
           for mineral rights:
                       humans cannot
stand uncertain
           or imaginary
                       gain. You think,
imagination has
           no power
. Yet
                       what else makes
our feelings sway
           and moves us
                       with such force
we wake up as
           if (your case)
                       from near-
death: a cave that
           yawned before
                       you, abra-
, and
           something (some-
                       one) murmured,
Only flesh
           knows love,
                       I guess.

Your one foot
           lifted to cross
                       over, one
eye opening to
           stay, and now
                       the reason why.  end