Greenhouse

A clear voice that is not your voice came
Running at me. Trying to say Stop I have heard

Of your quick flash and sting. You are a bumble-
Bee caught not in winter. In summer, with a hammock

And a light shirt on. When night comes and you are
Camping, you turn on the battery bulb. A few

Turns to the right, counterclockwise, and you can see.
Not so here, not so when you're trying to hear it,

The ring of the water, the thread. Twenty-four
Hours, eight is work and eight is sleep, and eight

Is who knows what, is the ballad they're trying
To have you do. Go on, it's Irish with a flat note,

Dum dum Dum, a green world, and the big plants rise.

Copyright © 2005 Rebecca Givens All rights reserved
from Meridian
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission