Under attack, trees share their secrets
Spread rumors of invasion
Or infestation, a whiff of stress perfume
Winding through the damaged grove
Whispering the key to survival
Simple and complex molecules seep
From root to root, fungal lines
Of communication ringing
The soil switchboard with toxic
News, rousing a gene, waking
A cascade of defense in pristine leaves
That become jaded, learn the noxious
Knack of bitterness, turn tasteless
In time to repel the siege
A moth, a dragonfly, and a new publication. Little things, yes, but most days are made of little things.
Publication note: My poem “The Congresswoman’s Brain” was published on vox poetica’s today’s words page over the weekend. It is now on the poemblog. Many thanks to editor Annmarie Lockhart!
Algal layers of rock
Pillars of change
Rising from acid reduction
And nitrogenous seep
Busy bellows of corruption
Poisoning earth
With what rusts
From saline retreats
Tilted engines of life
For the record, the riddle
Marching on a muddled shore
Squat and stony muses
Of marvel and breath
In this weathered, easy air
You must enter the dream
Like a rose petal unfolding
At midnight
Making no sound
And appearing not to move
The journey that is not a journey
Begins and ends on a rose petal
Unfolding
The rose has grown wild
Against a broken trellis
And an abandoned house
That sags with absence
This dream place would be barren
But for the rose
Petal unfolding
Grown wild against silence
Which you cannot break
Even if you could be heard
And what you will not say
Is all that remains of this house
The house of things you’ve known
The rose petal
Unfolding at midnight
Is why you have come
Not the broken window
Which allows time to seep
In and out of absence
Curling over and through
And past
You must exit the dream
You have seen enough
Been enough alone
Unable to start or end
The journey that is not a journey
While you were dreaming
The rose petal unfolded
Though neither of you moved
Today’s editing efforts deteriorated into a session of self-doubt. After a few sweaty hours of hammering at a lost cause, I forced myself to close the word processing software, turn off the light, and shut the office door tight behind me. Ever have one of those days?
Rae Spencer 