Cloth Of Cilantro - Poem by Doren Robbins
I'm taking up the pearls of cloth one more time.
I'm doing it without any losses, for a change.
I'm starting with the cloth of cilantro,
starting with the stain of it on my fingers,
the ripe smell of its unfurled part
moistening the edges of my nails.
I need the most mute processes now,
I need the pile of dirt that does not glow
I'm starting with the fragrant underground,
and the sucked-out skin of the green rims
that dropped off there.
I take up the young cilantro so much like pearl
where the pearl is floral, and so much like leaf
where the leaf is secreted within
my human cells. You can keep your garden.
I take up the branch that lives in two atmospheres,
and I let it do with me what it wants.
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