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Archive for April 8th, 2012

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Showy Orchis

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OF SORROWS AND ACQUAINTED WITH

Third Day
What door opens
when it’s closed?
The man with no arms
catches the bird.
Does the barrow dream it rolls
itself uphill?
Escape
frees no one.

My friends don’t know me
until I know them. They can’t
call my name until I call theirs.
Today we will eat together and be full;
tomorrow we’ll be hungry again.

Some say you created hunger so that we
might appreciate bread,
but even the fat man likes to eat,
and no want of bread ever drew
a dead man from his tomb.
There is no point to hunger.
No point at all except that we
must all be hungry together.

On the leafless branch,
a ripe fig.
Who gives it all away
becomes rich.
Cry, mouth. Drink, throat.
Reach, arms.

In the end, it is not my power
to roll this rock away. My friends
won’t know me until they know I
know them. None of them ask,
Three days? What took you so long?
Their blood is warm on my face. They
draw me to their breast.

Bless me, Father, for I
will struggle, and my heart is all pain
and all thanks.

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by Bill Griffin

Day One posted April 6, 2012

Day Two posted April 7, 2012

Originally published in Wild Goose Poetry Review

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