The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Jean Nordhaus
Rose
She met us in the nude, having come from the pool and remained so throughout the interview. She insisted on showing us around the garden: the peach tree bearing little globes of red-cheeked gold, sweet to the tongue; the robin’s nest with its scrap of sky-blue eggs; the black-faced sheep and the wondrous tree with its pale trunk and spreading branches. Once she stopped in the path standing wide to pee, explaining “I’m allowed.” She is almost 3. Her familiar, the dog, follows wherever she goes. She led us to the basil with its fragrant leaves and to the flowers. She was named for one of these, she told us, but her proper name was Eve. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |