Poetry by Elizabeth Adan : heart petal words
heart petal words
this afternoon the clouds were bubbling macbeth again
and I found myself whispering
mouthfuls of sage smoke under my breath
lungs filling with ginger roots
and an army rising from my sequoia hair
brewing storms and doors to the kingdom
we knew it could be opened
only by the sesame king himself
but the prayer slipped from your lips just in case
(just in case)
you asked for lobsters on rolls
and I was donning diamond bracelets in the sky
to remind us we’re not on a dock by the riverside
not rolling lazy along the water
like old travelers in a steamboat
not made of air and water and sometimes light
but also somehow still
we are all of those things plus stars
and also none of them
playful dancing cactus calliope tunes
still pierce the stubborn sticky spring air
as the cloud transforms my hot July into a lion
and for some reason
his actions implied he still liked the circus
or at least my mind games on plywood paper
so tell me someday
why I was only given one heart instead of many
and had to break it into pieces
to spread my love and punishment
as far as the ashy hills of north carolina
where cooking popcorn in a pan
beats roasting peanuts in the gallery
every time they play monopoly
although the board sits untouched for days
while the bank remains un-raided
and the iron stays hot
the clouds loomed heavy with hints of orange and purple
as they circled fierce around the arboretum for a cage match
causing echoes and ripples
across the grassy sheep hills over paradise ridge
but they could only be seen with nutmeg precision
from a dirt road along the left-hand side of the building
so bring your black car
oh the things we feel
oh the things
oh the things we feel
when you wear the ring long enough to make an impression
and when it doesn’t make it that far
or when it does
and the stairs you walked on to get there
were piles of woodchips and heart petal words
left like the loose change
of an ungrateful millionaire
in the idaho gravel unsaid
