let’s forget

John Martone

samuddo / ocean2016

let’s forget copyright © 2016 John Martone

samuddo / oceanjohnmartone @gmail.com

let’s forget

Le mosche abbondano quest'anno, come sempre. A proposito: si chiede a che servono le mosche. Chia-ro, che a nutrir le rondini. E le rondini? Chiaro, che a insegnare agli uomini (perciò si mettono sopra le loro finestre) tante cose: l'amore della famiglia e del nidietto. La prima capanna che uomo costruì, di terra seccata al sole, alla sua donna, gli insegnò una coppia di rondini a costruirla. Ciò fu al tempo dei nomadi. Le rondini viaggiatrici insegnarono all’uo-mo di fermarsi. E gli dettero il modellino della casa. Solo, l’uomo lo capovolse.

— Giovanni Pascoli

5

the house abandonedgrasses reach tobuddha’s sternum

6

when you return bleeding hearts are full of windblown trash

7

you thought you’d dug out all that thornbush

all the branches dangling maple-wingsthat’s how you feel

8

neighbors agingpine limbs sweepthe roof peak

a new doorbell peace and quiet

9

rainy day that rusty gate’s a grackle

taking to heart this practice of oblivion you clone the jade plant

10

the eaves drip in codeyou can’t name that star

violets you thought you were painting a seascape

11

bruised a rib coughing —april showers

dreaming at last I’m swimming

12

endless rain you get back in the car your lungs are clear

finally tulips in the rain door swollen shut

13

while listening to kitchen clock’s second-handthe pines!

as long as there’s more laundry to do — this

14

dandelions in the basil pot —don’t be bitter

white violets my fingers are dirty

15

after that first day in the garden trimming your nails

pick and shovel —sad to think — done replantingthe family fig tree

16

on looking up from the broken shell a nestling’s eyes

last of that phlegm coughed-up while planting bulbs

17

knee-shape gladiolus bulbsand these knees

hundred more gladioli to plant —imagine

18

planting gladioli —mother had such brown eyes

gladioli planted in rows and now — let’s forget

19

light spirals down this pine — a fledgling doveand me —

ciborium the fledgling dovefills its nest

20

also innate — the fledgling dove’s fluttering cry first flight

no one knows howthe fledgling dove’s eyetakes you in

21

rolled-up pill bug rolls back and forth palm-reading

beetle flies off slowly — it’s a wholesky

22

digging up a small patch till the mail comes

we sit outside rocking at different speedsevening star

23

just call them doves this springnot mourning doves

old saw

oak leaves the size of mouse ears time to plant corn

24

history the first bee comes as you’re spreadingmulch over old news

last of spring beauties a dove egg shell in pieces

25

mailmantalks to himself something for me

garden work —sole splits offthe old shoe

26

garden fence the gardener’s only trouble

empty chair across from me spring evenings

27

evening sunthrough a windowyou need to wash

28

evening sun on the brass lock-setblinding

moon’s whitenessthrough pear treeblossoms as well

29

familiar stars — the front door not locked

long drive to the stained-glass windowsthe same light

30

clean as can be —mud-daubers inspect my wash on the line

sweetgum balls everywhere underfootI’ve come full circle

31

pine trees candlethe fledgling dove has no choice

may apple heart’s ease

my knees give out

32

solitude deepens water sparkles in your jelly jar drinking glass

the seventeen-year cicadas ready themselves —the last time

33

poem after poem rain drips from the eave

the storm blew down that norfolk pine my lace-leaf maple sparkles

34

yellow wood sorrel —a thousand miles from here yellow wood sorrel

under a pile of all those others the outermost shore

35

wild strawberries flower —you keep to the pavers

jet shrieks overheadyou can’t keep upwith the weeding

36

I wake up by such a tall windowI’m almost outside

grass gone to seed out front — he wearshis good jacket

37

doves back-and-forth from a nest outside my windowI try to sit still

returning to nature I stake a small treebefore the storm

38

nightfall robin songsame-length sentences --then it stops

yellow flowers of the sungetting plowed backinto earth

39

he steps down firmly around the seedling a poem sinks in

nowhere now — pond at an interstate clover-leafsomeone fishing

40

backyard grape-stock —you’ve no ideawhat you’re doing

41

after the earthquake we slept outside for a month —90 years now

1929

their supper in Frigentoa bowl of pastaand he dropped it

42

two days now no mail in the box there you are

43

dried tomatoes in olive oil by a slabof pecorino

the pine tree candles a bagworm goes the other way

44

stars above the alleythat childhood stairwell

redwing blackbird a small mark this backyardon the prairie

45

you discover an ancestor’s datesyour daughter goes for a walk

mockingbird and crowand that one you can’t name what spring’s about

46

and yet — every stone of this stone housedisplaced

47

trees leafing out the house disappears