Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

The grass

and the elephant ears. . .

One could do worse than still to hear

the rhubarb saying, wild furred years –

the nights, the sun, growth and its gear.

The grass, and the elephant ears,

home six years to the south of here –

could do worse, and time interferes

with green veins and the hammer’s gear.

The grass, and the elephant ears

grow over my longing. A spear

in the elephant heart six years

will cause death. Do not interfere.

The grass, and the elephant ears

die like memory, re-appear

on our tongues, in our furred hearts’ fears.

Rhubarb, lend me your fruit one year.

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