Tulip
you are the one who knows
how to lay amid dank cellar stains
the whole bad season long
seek respite from crusted snow
be brought out by cupped hands,
arthritic joints back into light,
be sunken again into earth, have
water poured over your hunger
for sun bring out that blaze
and blaze and blaze you own
mirror to the sun and round and
joyous and bright as any summer skirt
without a single blemish within – rich
stamen, a beaded pistol for the bees
for a month your stalk wags in wind
telling us that hope itself can be kept
wrapped in a burlap kerchief
be nourished back into bloom
annos annos annos ad infinitum
Ed Ruzicka has recently found that he can blend in seamlessly. Whether testing the firmness of a mango at Albertsons, walking hospital halls, sipping suds at a music fest or pausing by a park bench in Cusco to tie his shoe, he exults in the luxury of oblivion. He has one book out and has appeared in a wide range of literary magazines. More at edrpoet.com.
