HONEY
It was a honey time there in the valley
with the women, spiked with frost and stars--
my whole body felt like a smile
as I supped it like a winter bee
and was nourished and healed--
we were all Queens, fattening our hearts
Afterwards, still on that fertile edge
between one soul-system and another,
I had to do the shopping. I gathered up
my bags, but at the supermarket I dropped
the coastal gum honey in its glass jar
on the hard floor and it shatters-- the current of shoppers sweep around my crisis
in a 4 o'clock haste, as I view the bag of groceries
stuck with honey and razor-sharp glass
oozing into the aisles--
the floor has no use for such sweetness--
The trolleys, neat jars of Vegemite
stacks of SPECIAL's--I wish
it would all burst into laughter
at this splendid small tragedy--
feeling boxed back in
I drove home and there learn
that you have died:
your honey all spilled in heart attack.
I'm cleaning up with tears now
as I remember you in an old blue muu-muu,
shopping bag in hand as you
step from the threshold into the street,
your white hair coiled in a low braided bun
maybe a lei of plumeria around your neck
your wise clear eyes and
always that nectar smile
which greeted every being
and every smashed jar.
Diana Levy
What Book?!: A Collection of Zen Poetry from Beat to Hip Hop
edited by Gary Ginsberg
posted 2003.09.28
updated 2003.09.28
pau