My Freedom Lawn
Chinese New Year
Husband, how will you celebrate all the ways
that I please you and promise to obey you
in the year of the rooster?
I will honor your purest deceptions with a flock
of frightened bird aerial repeaters
and a score
of musical pyramid mines, my wife.
Husband, will you hold me in your arms
like the moon's brightness is held within
the spaces of the parking lot
across the street?
Yes, I will send out some black diamond missiles
that climb at least twenty-five hundred feet
and finish with reports as loud as our ecstacy.
Husband, I'm listening to a symphony
by a composer that I do not remember.
Will you come in from the porch
and conduct with me?
No, but I will perform a duet of peacock fountains
and golden snowflake candles for you
that will help you put on the master's wig?
Husband, I found a lock of our baby's hair
in this book and I thought about
that old stucco house...
do you ever think about...?
No, I only remember the crazy jack ground
spinners and catherine three-drive moonwheels
that kept me on the rim of night.
Husband, when you leave for the plant
in the morning and walk beside the piles
of dawn-streaked mud,
will you write my name there for me?
I will launch whistling gemini missiles and light
marching cicada comets at the bus stop so
you will know the wild flower of my heart.
John A. Blackard