The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review
littlereview

Poem for Wednesday and Amphibious Richmond


The Weed
By Elizabeth Bishop

I dreamed that dead, and meditating,
I lay upon a grave, or bed,
(at least, some cold and close-built bower).
In the cold heart, its final thought
stood frozen, drawn immense and clear,
stiff and idle as I was there;
and we remained unchanged together
for a year, a minute, an hour.
Suddenly there was a motion,
as startling, there, to every sense
as an explosion. Then it dropped
to insistent, cautious creeping
in the region of the heart,
prodding me from desperate sleep.
I raised my head. A slight young weed
had pushed up through the heart and its
green head was nodding on the breast.
(All this was in the dark.)
It grew an inch like a blade of grass;
next, one leaf shot out of its side
a twisting, waving flag, and then
two leaves moved like a semaphore.
The stem grew thick. The nervous roots
reached to each side; the graceful head
changed its position mysteriously,
since there was neither sun nor moon
to catch its young attention.
The rooted heart began to change
(not beat) and then it split apart
and from it broke a flood of water.
Two rivers glanced off from the sides,
one to the right, one to the left,
two rushing, half-clear streams,
(the ribs made of them two cascades)
which assuredly, smooth as glass,
went off through the fine black grains of earth.
The weed was almost swept away;
it struggled with its leaves,
lifting them fringed with heavy drops.
A few drops fell upon my face
and in my eyes, so I could see
(or, in that black place, thought I saw)
that each drop contained a light,
a small, illuminated scene;
the weed-deflected stream was made
itself of racing images.
(As if a river should carry all
the scenes that it had once reflected
shut in its waters, and not floating
on momentary surfaces.)
The weed stood in the severed heart.
"What are you doing there?" I asked.
It lifted its head all dripping wet
(with my own thoughts?)
and answered then: "I grow," it said,
"but to divide your heart again."

--------

Tuesday was not particularly a better day than Monday, other than I got to see Adam for three minutes after going to College Park to drop off his belt and some other things that he didn't pack when he left for his week as an R.A. Lots of people I know had annoying things going on in their lives, so I had no one I could whine to. I had a weather headache most of the afternoon, though I did see five bunnies when I went out to walk.

I had laundry to fold, so I watched The Nanny Diaries, which has a terrible script that Johansson, Evans, Linney, and Giamatti can't do a thing to save, so I pretended it was Captain America and Black Widow doing an undercover assignment. Then in the evening we watched I Love You, Man which was better than I was expecting -- not just Paul Rudd but it actually passed the Bechdel test! More of Richmond's Deep Run Park:













</center>
Subscribe

  • Greetings from a Rainy Sunday

    I spent the entirety of Sunday, as it rained hard from before dawn till after dusk, doing Pokemon Go's legendary birds raid day (four remotely, six…

  • Greetings from Green Spring Gardens

    We originally had rain forecast for most of the weekend, but Saturday was actually a really nice day, mid-50s and overcast. We did chores in the…

  • Poem for Saturday and Cabin John Crocuses

    Black Heroism is Unskilled Labor By Xandria Phillips Angela makes sure the right people die at the funeral. A grandchild of the Tulsa Massacre,…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments