Restoration, Full Moon Garden

The plot is nothing but an excuse for being
With you as songbirds come for the cockscomb seeds
At dawn and dusk, after and before the night

Flowers open. Lamps are in niches again
(Burning mustard oil). Before them falls water
From an overhanging chute, veiling their heat.

Re-enacting the four-plotted garden's
Effect on the harem once the king decamped,
The Taj Mahal shatters in the refilled pool.

Is it enough for you, the cashew and mango,
Guava and jujube, growing feral all around?
To my tired eyes, taking off my glasses,

The decorative is wholly instrumental:
The vermillion cockscomb, not quite a flower,
Broadcasts seed for songbirds. The reflecting pool,

Which powered a fountain once, now undermines.
In the morning, a country boat will come
To ferry us over the aged wounded river.

I am nothing but in being here with you.

Copyright © 2003 Andrew McCord All rights reserved
from Southwest Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission