Saturday 2 June 2012

Laws

a poem by Roger B Rueda

are now circumstance like virulent toxic put in
like nameless berries
in the garden, deliberate & posited,
their gazes so dumb like gourds
hanging from their trellis.
Guard against them –
they’re noxious when the gardener
wants to set you against everyone
in the garden.
It’ll come to be pestilential,
in a flash, so mystical,
so mercurial.
It’s a ruse, not a rose –  
everyone can scoff them,
but only on the sly,
or amongst heavies,
or amongst mangoes, bananas,
pumpkins, lemons, curries,
valenciana, yolks, honeydews,
mums, ylang-ylangs,
sunflowers, corns, ducklings!
When the gardener spurns you,
don’t be a grasshopper grasping
at a spur; you’ll snuff it.
Remember you’ve had the deadly drupes.
They all will finger you
as if only you were filthy.
Slope off in silence
before everyone yanks you out of the garden.







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