Its stem nest
into the silhoutte
of a pregnant form
causing bruises to bloom
in the nape of its back

Worn with wear
weighed down by time
the memory of storms gone by
straddle its skin
until the peak of its blade
darkens the soil with its image

It is then the gardener
touches the single vein
running along
the arch of its back
and as he does so
it is as if a feather
finds eternal rest
in a tender breath of wind

He lays the back of his hand
under the tip of the reed
until his flesh communes with the earth
As the reed leans toward
the flesh of his palm
his other hand
forges a shell around its body

A breeze leaks through
the lattice of his fingers
causing the reed to sway
and all the while
the hands of the gardener
shelter the reed
from the full force of the wind
and the reed remains unbroken




2003 Claudia R.May

written on
9:06 PM