Edith Goldenhar
Rake
How do you make a moral life? Sophie
writes, and later I head to the garden
with ball of string to save my infant pea
shoots, tying them on rusty wrought iron.
Thank blooming green tulips, thank cilantro
and geraniums in cedar boxes.
I'm stumped. Humility? Among my hunches--
woman kneeling in dirt, anonymous.
But a garden's also good for killing.
These days I prune broken wisteria,
pound snails with a red mallet, rake yellow
thatch off the lawn, almost delirious
because tools cut and shred--my shovel flies.
Soil sweetened with manure, and what dies.
Dig
My love's late wife had a black thumb, thus
I dig and dig, queenly. My compost heap
needs turning: her many sweaters, her brooch
--a dazzling slug in lapis lazuli--
all journals and artwork, pink manicure
case, cosmetics tossed through a bathroom
window. Stop. Throw nothing out. Are we sure
dead is dead? A yellow painting, exhumed
from her studio, hangs behind my desk.
I'm gazing out my window at zinnias,
a single watermelon, and cascades
of yarrow. And sunflowers. Didn't I
hear you, Sue? From wherever you scattered?
When will you bless me? As if it mattered.
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| Candy Chang: Meant as a singular experiment, the Before I Die project gained global attention and thanks to passionate people around the world, over 500 Before I Die walls have been created in over 70 countries, including Kazakhstan, Iraq, Haiti, China, Ukraine, Portugal, Japan, Denmark, Argentina, and South Africa.
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