Claire's February Poem

RED DAHLIAS

because their colors called me from the roadside—

dahlias—bright and huge at summer’s height

because their violets and reds yelled my name from galvanized pails

because the faded flag with the black serpent drooped in mid-day heat

because his heirloom tomatoes statuesque sunflowers his gladioli cockscomb early sweet corn

because I did not bite when his talk pivoted from potatoes to politics

because I did not flinch when he spit the name Hillary

You must be one of those Liberals

because had he known I was a Communist he never would have sold me his flowers! 

I did not demand my $8 back because I dug instead into his soil-dark eyes furrowed face 

so deep were the tubers of his intolerance I did not ask for my money back

because we both knew didn’t we that for those brief moments, beauty bound us.

***

MORNING COMMUTE, SUBZERO


Minus two on the car thermometer.
Out the window, it’s Kansas, as usual,

except the hawk over the river
is puffed up to twice its normal size

and is perched above a white rubble field
where the river used to be.

Minus two on the car thermometer.
The roads are dry, traffic sparse, not unusual,

except I come across a wrecker
tilting a banged-up Nissan onto its bed,

and ten miles later another, cranking up a Ford.
Had the cold itself pulled each car off its line?

Minus two on the car thermometer.
I’m fine, there’s nothing unusual,

except it’s clear, the world’s subtracted,
drained, an absence of something we depend on—

ruddiness, moisture. The air catches at my throat.
It’s the kind of day there’s someone on the local news

who, having dragged out an old space heater
to stay warm, plugged it into bad wiring

and ends up standing in the front yard
wrapped in a blanket agape as everything burns down.

Minus two on the car thermometer. There’s no disaster. 

The world appears in almost every way the same.

Resume?

Happy Valentine's Day, infinity poets!  I hope love is taking shape where you are.  Somehow it's mid-February already.  I'm in a better position to contribute to the workshop these days.  Anyone else out there?  I did go back and comment on the poems posted from this fall.

All the best,

Dargie