Mustard Tree

So saddening to see

How everything you once reserved to me

As part of our togethering,

Shy, hungry, modest, coy,

(Though thirty we were only girl and boy)

Is now withdrawn, out of the question

And left to die for want of truth and heat.

Or so I thought

Until I caught

The fugitive calls, the shame-filled look,

The pink shade of lip

And knew I was redacted from your book.

And now the effort's made for someone else.

I wonder, where was he,

When storms threw trees across the hospital road,

When we stood in wet cemeteries,

Signed papers with trembling hands,

When your father drowned our Christmas in drink and piss,

When surgeons dragged our glorious, bloody children to wide-eyed, fascinating life,

When the view of the reeks opened wide and sunny on charmed summer days

And we sang our songs

And roared approval of the others', full-hearted, full-bellied?

In my deep knowing parts I know that I was not so bad.

I deserved a better hearing.

We had to build, but you would not dig.

How wrong you have it, woman,

How wrong!

But though it fall as dry powder to the ground

I shall bless and decree

Godspeed with a happy sound.