REDIFORMS
errol miller
Canning household nouns and verbs
into green-glass Mason jars
we are preserving this summer for ourselves
nothing can stop the spider-lilies and begonias
day-by-day opening like night-flowers
we are the daffodils from spring
speculating about tomorrow
we yawn and stretch
towards the ceiling and turn down the TV
tonight, clean sheets and a particularly satisfying
concerto of tranquil fluttering breezes
off with the yoke of like
as we idle down the mountain into dawn
dreaming of biscuits and bologna for breakfast
kissing me you rush out to celebrate July
reunited with the small blue hours
of aloneness I am brimming over with poems
shaking them from my heart into a grocery sack
believing in white light
capped in the aura of time and place
flickering in a labyrinth root-deep
pristine and incomparable
I am not interested in moving
to higher ground.