Elemental - marjorie evasco
There is a season to this ripening
the way sap of tree rises to fulfill fruit of the topmost branch,
or the motion of jasmine climbing trellises
to show off a single blossom at new moon tide
In my garden bamboos arch over patch of grass,
river stones, upturned earth.
Alone where weeds grow wildest, I think:
How the golden skin of mango broke between your teeth;
how you swallowed the seamless sky over Siquijor,
you body becoming an entire land I could intimate black moons from,
taste of earth, rush of river songs, smell of air before rain,
spray of flowers with strange names.
Yes, there is Reason for this ripening.
You are goldened by my tongue.
