Lemongrad
The sweet tea leaves sweated pine needle cider seeped in sonogram satin
The people know how much you appreciate your anonymity
dropping in like a winter wind
and collecting your checks like pollen
Maybe marriage vows and unrealized seeds were unreaped
and the fields of golden fetus
were at least as toned as ivory
I've stoned a toddler at sunrise when he wasn't even born
like stepping on a leaf unturned on Cornucopia Ave.
The tree had no visitors, none at all --
emptiness in fields vaster than Elysium and Valhalla
lodestones and birth thermometers
Glass eggs and other fertility symbols
staved in the hollow of the tree
like a Christmas stocking but the household...
No sounds of joy within it
No cries of child's laughter
A human settlement devastated by humans
who settled on a pumpkin patch anomaly
Sycamore Sabbath commences;
I'm shivering air and the rabbis came knocking
on wooden doors to priesthood cabins
Don't mind the Buddhist or Islamic tablets
Read it in the tabloids as clear as murky daylight!
The trees have grown, the pigeons stoned
and the perfect mile has been isolated
as a tree stands at the end like an iron fork
even the scarecrows were intimidated