The monacle is a circle the eye is a circle

by Heather Green

after Tristan Tzara

The monacle that walked with you
Rolled off the curb
Lay still in the wet leaves

The poems fell from the trees that year
With sugar crystals in their veins
Reminiscent of summer

Those leaves that were a thousand fingers
In summer pointing this way and that
Until the road your companion got lost

Among a thousand arrows labeled this way
And I remember you used thumb and flower
No, finger, to screw that lens

To your right eye
The late blooming flower of focus became you
Leaves drifted down, until

 

Heather Green’s work has recently appeared in Pilot and RealPoetik and is forthcoming from DIAGRAM and Pebble Lake Review. Her chapbook, The Match Array, will be published by Dancing Girl Press in 2008. She lives in Lincoln, Nebraska. (3/2008)