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
June 18, 2013
This piece was written by:
Debbi Brody conducts poetry workshops and readings at festivals and other venues throughout the Southwest for writers and listeners age five through ninety-five. She publishes frequently in regional and national literary journals as well as in numerous anthologies of note. Her new chapbook, Awe in the Muddle , is available through the poet at artqueen58@aol.com. Debbi lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico where she works for a small innovative scientific company.
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