Leave it to the Land this is what it knows
I think my neurology was always meant to be a trellis. Specifically one decorated by honeysuckle and firecrackers, smelling like summer and smoke. Though now that my nerves have been reclaimed by the dirt, the ivy in its place is a pure unforgiving emerald.
I think my lungs were always meant to be flower pots. They were meant to exhale blue hydrangeas, and cradle baby’s breath in their fissures. Though now that they are filled with dirt it’s cymbidium orchids that my breath is replaced with.
I think my arms were always meant to be an orchard. They were meant to produce the sweetest of fruits and give them out lovingly to anyone who would accept. Though now they have tried to trade with the dirt, and they are left clenching what the ground attempted to take.
I think my legs were meant to be trees, One a Willow and the other an oak tree. One to find me love and the other to find me stability. Though now that the dirt has reclaimed its children, I realize they are nothing more than two rooted river reeds.
I think I was meant to be a jungle. A raucous rainforest consisting of sky, stream, and springs. Though now I find myself known under nothing but Algerian Ivy, oleanders, and empty fields of green.
This is beauuuutiful. I love the proper nouns of all the plants; they sharply convey images with no description necessary. I think the first sentence is a little jarring compared to the rest of the poem — neurology is a little too scientific in tone for me (my opinion, obviously) and garden feels like a more lovely word than trellis (but I also had to google what that was, so that could also just be a me thing). But I love this in concept and most of the execution. Nice job
ReplyDeleteLike many effective poems, this one is rooted in a simple anaphora: "I think my [body part]." Phrases referring to being reclaimed by the dirt seem to suggest death. Is the speaker in the poem a ghost? an imagined member of the deceased? Or is the speaker in the poem "the land," as seems to be indicated by the title?
ReplyDeleteThere are some wonderfully specific and arresting descriptions here. My favorite might be "They were meant to exhale blue hydrangeas, and cradle baby’s breath in their fissures."
The last line expresses a specificity that evades my understanding. "Algerian Ivy" is quite specific, but I can't figure out why it was chosen.
Here's a small suggestion for improvement: instead of "One to find me love and the other to find me stability" what about "One rooted in love and the other in stability"?
I really liked the way you illustrated the way that we think things "should" or will be in contrast with the way they seem to end up, not necessarily in a negative way, just different.
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