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Odile, The Black Swan
by Una Mcdonnell
Impossible to look at her without thinking dark water, depths
where light doesn't reach. In the diner on Dalhousie,
her presence commands the booth, though only the decrepit
at the counter sees the water rising, water-
line gurgling just beneath her chin. Flutter
of a dark wing that briefly stretches. Sally, a regular, orders
coffee between johns, eggs at 4 a.m. They arrive, sunny side
silicon perfect. Minivans line up to glean sorrow
from her eyes. If only I could dance, says Sally. When the sky
turns pink, she'll sleep. Odile once had an act involving lit black
candles and a snake. Smoke she could conjure on demand.
Rose on stage, an angel from the black lake.
They all desired her, but one. Before Champagne Rooms,
loose laws, when looking was enough
She holds her mug as if it could contain her.
The transistor radio tin-tin-tins demented heart songs
tie a yellow ribbon -- and getting caught
in the rain --¦ and I'll never have that recipe again --
Pale-skinned fries rise like broken limbs from plates, tendrils of vinegar
seep down. The scent is grease, acid, hot breath and chrome.
There are no new ways to be alone. There are no new ways to mourn.
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The Negro speaks of Rivers
by Langston Hughes
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
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The Bristlecone Pine
The Bristlecone Pine
by Mary Jane Myers
For centuries, the stalwart pine has stood
__in this unwonted spot.
Its shallow roots and resinous hard wood
__shield it from drought and rot.
__Thin soil, high winds, cold air:
it thrives where other living things cannot.
__Dear tree, please hear my prayer.
__Lend me your purple cone
to plant inside my heart, its chambers bare,
__arteries hard as bone.
__For from your potent seed,
that germinates on bleak and barren stone,
__fresh hope will sprout. Indeed,
to love's avowals I'd once again accede.
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Cloud
by Sandra Cisneros
Before you became a cloud, you were an ocean, roiled and murmuring like a mouth.
You were the shadow of a cloud crossing over a field of tulips.
You were the tears of a man who cried into a plaid handkerchief.
You were a sky without a hat.
Your heart puffed and flowered like sheets drying on a line.
And when you were a tree, you listened to trees and the tree things trees told you.
You were the wind in the wheels of a red bicycle.
You were the spidery Maria tattooed on the hairless arm of a boy in downtown Houston.
You were the rain rolling off the waxy leaves of a magnolia tree.
A lock of straw-colored hair wedged between the mottled pages of a Victor Hugo novel.
A crescent of soap.
A spider the color of a finger nail.
The black nets beneath the sea of olive trees.
A skein of blue wool.
A tea saucer wrapped in newspaper.
An empty cracker tin.
A bowl of blueberries in heavy cream.
White wine in a green-stemmed glass.
And when you opened your wings to wind,
across the punched-tin sky above a prison courtyard,
those condemned to death and those condemned to life
watched how smooth and sweet a white cloud glides.
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Praise the Rain
by Joy Harjo
Praise the rain; the seagull dive
The curl of plant, the raven talk—
Praise the hurt, the house slack
The stand of trees, the dignity—
Praise the dark, the moon cradle
The sky fall, the bear sleep—
Praise the mist, the warrior name
The earth eclipse, the fired leap—
Praise the backwards, upward sky
The baby cry, the spirit food—
Praise canoe, the fish rush
The hole for frog, the upside-down—
Praise the day, the cloud cup
The mind flat, forget it all—
Praise crazy. Praise sad.
Praise the path on which we're led.
Praise the roads on earth and water.
Praise the eater and the eaten.
Praise beginnings; praise the end.
Praise the song and praise the singer.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
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