2-14-05

*revised

Caterpillar, I envied your chrysalis
which rainbow-pulsed
wings against membrane.

It wasn't my tragedy.
Frantic phone calls and airfares;
reservations kept. We forced smiles,
guzzled raspberry champagne
and Bio-sphered our world
into pots of coque au vin and Emmenthaler.

It wasn't my tragedy; a new diamond sparkled on my left hand.

Job description of a pillar:
Warm or cool against tear streaked faces as needed,
empathetic, &, strong in appearance.
Mastery of the sad smile
and ability to compartmentalize grief a plus.

It wasn't my heartbreak.

I didn't fight morbid reflection upon
his lips on her cold, rubbery death,
or the turgid burble of air forced into liquid.
I didn't weep at the tiny coffin, for a father's bloody blue eyes.

The New England soil too frozen to accept you,
I wasn’t relieved you’d not be blanketed in ice.
I didn't ponder your youth in a butterfly garden
or slip out to the frigid sluice of winter for respite.

Pillars do no such things.

But, when a new-mother friend disappeared that summer
for and hour, a year, a moment--
I ran from room to room, outside
from acre to acre and screamed and screamed
to keep out the coffins, the mothers dangling,
the dead babies -
and wept when she returned.

Caterpillar, you weren't my tragedy;
but your ashes butterfly my Buddleia
and I will keep you,
keep you safe as I can, now.






2-14-05
Caterpillar, I envied your chrysalis
which rainbow pulsed
wings against membrane.

It wasn't my tradgedy.
Frantic phone calls and airfares,
reservations kept. We forced smiles
and guzzled raspberry champagne-
Bio-sphered our world into
pots of coque au vin and melted cheese.
It wasn't my tragedy, a new diamond sparkled on my left hand.

Job description of a pillar:
warm or cool against tear streaked faces as needed,
tall, strong, good at handling the excelerated
intimacy that occurs with death a plus.

It wasn't my heartbreak, I didn't fight
reflection
of his lips on her cold rubbery death.
I didn't wince at the imagined burble of air forced into liquid.
I didn't weep at the tiny coffin, for a father's bloody blue eyes.
I didn't shelter a bird-girl in my arms,
three pews from accusation.
There are pillars for such things.

The New England soil too frozen to accept you,
I didn't ponder your youth in a butterfly garden or
smoke heavily in the sluice of winter to warm my lungs.

When a new-mother friend disappeard that summer
for and hour, a year, a moment
I didn't run from room to room, outside
from acre to acre and scream and scream
to keep out the coffins, the mothers dangling,
the dead babies -
and weep when she returned.

Caterpillar, you weren't my tradgedy;
but your ashes butterfly my Buddleia
and I will keep you,
keep you safe as I can, now.