Printemps Poem by Eli Spivakovsky

A caleum of gold and white
sweet reefs of sparkling pink flowers
cerulean blue skies of sunbeams
floating in laps
for acres of water
positioned so the roots
take place many miles beneath it
the wetlands
deer raise their heads then skitter
spotted as if the snow is still carried
licking a water-hole with rose-tongues
Turquoise fans made of shells
the geisha celebrate spring
they click them open
then hold their branches of new bloom
not dropping a petal
where did you disappear to?
the curl of your lips suggest you never left
O so you traveled and had 2 of them
Across your brow the ocean signals itself
You stutter, your body shakes
I am dancing with you inside a closed room
a vault of water
and we float up
and up until it erases your lines
and we experience our first season
as if we babies know the difference
between a flower and a bud