Ardors
By Carol Frost
The tortoise walks on tiptoe in June,
the month of his ardors.
Buttery light, distant thunder
in the month of my ardors.
_
Flailing boughs, coral lime
in the wind and verdure.
Then silence, dark creamy
shadows in nighttime verdure.
_
The moon traversing the garden,
florals made of a blush or a breath,
nightbirds with a little lump
of insect under their tongues, breath
_
of clover, grassy, spiced,
and all of it rinsed of emotion.
The leaden nymph by the gate.
All, all rinsed of emotion.
_
By what bough are the fireflies
hidden, and the stars?
The night’s leavings in daylight
lie hidden like the stars.
“Ardors” by Carol Frost from I Will Say Beauty. © 2003 by Carol Frost. Published by TriQuarterly/Northwestern University Press. All rights reserved.
Source:
I Will Say Beauty
(TriQuarterly Books, 2003)
