1)
The olive flesh with wrinkle ravines run down her hands spoke
in behalf of the widow,
Crow’s feet creasing out loud:
The unbearable bite of life straining against death, root to snap, sap to drain
Of course the willow was weeping so.
2)
No, but it was the cut of cold sliced clear through chubby cheek
One brute battling against another:
Finally the young tot tumbled bloody into her triumph—
All of the mean and ugly still ripe to be reckoned with
—this one tiny miraculous spittle of humanity
All but knocked the old deciduous to its knees
3)
Or perhaps
It is the crooning of the speakers
(a chord, of its own accord, breeding grief
in every crescendo)
which sent gooseflesh to mouseheart
A memory is not a mere gismo of grievance to be
shoved into a junk drawer;
Every time a lover or a mother breaks a being’s heart
The record wails its old briny blue,
The willow sings her song for you.
4)
My God,
they are grasping at you with why[eye]s wide open.
The dread of Jupiter just sitting there minding his
fat ringed business,
Constellations glitter in their achingly mindless lust for life
All of which must be dragged into the balance
Of wind and ransom
Of lost blood drunk down every petal
Whittling the old tree down to bare branches
What could bring more sorrow to so beloved a species?
5)
And what could reap more hunger than joy?
Just look at us:
In love with the tapping hands rain makes against the back porch,
The cloudy brows of your grandad,
The smoke screen in every Saturday before sunrise
Your pretty girl, the handsome man
you’ll love with your whole brooding being,
Just the sleepy southern drawl of molasses
Soaked into the stump;
Look at how sweet it is to rest.
Just 5 possible reasons why the willow might be weeping: death, birth, heartbreak, hopelessness, joy
