An Excerpt from a Work in Progress

David Bateman
Naomi Wakan
as usual
I forced the hyacinths
in January…
sitting re-writing, re-writing
their smell wafting over me
small town wedding
the bride in beaded pink satin
the groom twitching his tie
the entertainment – Patsy Cline
and Dolly Parton lyp-syncs
when meadows resist
forget-me-nots abounding
buttercups in drag
daisies with two few petals
he loves him she loves her they . . .
his bed made early
by imprudent gardeners
the earth was so dry
parched lips sealed unsung at birth
now he cries rivers daily
to tell me of his love
he brings in red currant branches
in full bloom
recreating the outside inside
his inside love outside
a rainbow 
in the valley and suddenly
the trees are colored
seven-striped, surely at such a sight
one should turn the coins in one’s pocket
today pocket coins
are mixed with tokens of love
transit for the heart
the city lifts my spirits 
with handsome apparitions
prismatic arches
fuel becoming rainbows
romantic gutters
a glowing urbanity
wildflowers fill the streets
when the tide withdraws
a certain sadness
hangs around the stranded sea-weed
and the hermit carrying his home
longing always
for my home, that even
when I have one
I still feel myself with
a residual longing
few residuals 
in the poetry we sell
as words from the heart
swirl in dank cashless glee
swamp of soft murky phrases 
damp peeling birch bark 
marked by nature’s elegance
sans intransient tree 
words on trunk and bough of odes
leaflet, root, and verbiage 
© David Bateman and Naomi Wakan 2012