Twenty-First Century Flint Mary Leonard

Where You Are When I Am Far Away: A Sonnet

                I want to fall
into purple feathers, the black-eyed susans,
any weed that could hold.

                one rock, gray,
held in my hand. I cradle it
between thumb and forefinger.

                one maple leaf,
green—ripped—stained. I do not hold it.

                a pine cone like a
feather, like a bird. I am holding it
between thumb and fingers, at the edge.

                a spray of green with
red berries. 10 leaves—3 berries—
did I mention the berries were red?

                a pine cone like a
feather and I am holding
it at the edge of my hand, as if.

                brown—thin—veined leaf
like an old woman’s hand.

                i am holding
a fine thin pointed stick and I cannot
resist shaking it, threatening no one.

                i am held
by the green bud, its pink tip like
a waterlily penis—held.

                i hold
a small twig and swirl its magic.

                a dirty flower bud,
a picked flower bud—discarded.

                i am holding a
dry lily leaf, a green and purple leaf, curled
in upon itself. Its stripes, its dry life. Immortal.


October 2002 2River