Come out from tangled roots,
change course, move away
from contamination. Snake
into the riverbed, divert erosion
into a reflexive complaint
below the run-off. A global
cycle of invasion, of white strips
of drying bandage wrapped
around red poles, of blood-letting
to make dragon soup garnished
with hated radishes.
What happens when you try to
love the radish, when you make
yourself rejoice in crisp wet bitter
meat and smooth easily damaged
flesh? Do you come out
of the labyrinth through an iron
gate and paw at the salt-cedar,
a lion sharpening its claws?
Weekly Poetry: Buckman Diversion
By Debbi Brody
June 18, 2013