elegy composed on a levee

elegy composed on a levee

upon the levee
at high mark looking low,
chewing on grief and tasting tears,
a sort of pharmacology for wordless lips,

the black durge has turned and left,
taking their sorrows, 
their healing words and fears so well marbled.
holding tight to your memory,

one tiny cloud no bigger than my hand
floats across the darkening sun,
breaking shadows on silent yellow flowers,
my ointment to pick.

this river, this river undulates america’s story. 
currents of history continuously flow, emptying
into an ocean of life, carrying our brief confluence,
my lasting cure, my medicine.

words spit from the water, flooding to the surface,
no urgency as the disc chases the cloud.
blotting out evening sun, the moon has come
to give eclipse. 

souls a plenty share this day, 
but that cloud is yours, that eclipse yours! 
having picked a full bouquet,
there are no good words.

all i can do is chew petals like we used to do reading books outdoors.
marigold essence, flower of the dead radiance, that flower i eat is yours!

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