The Ambassadors — Part 5
By Leah Umansky
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This is a poured-truth dressed in memory
and cut down; this is a matter ruff; a gray middle
the world is in flight and many things circle.
What world do you want me in? I ask.
But I am confronted with touch, the work of hand and eye,
and a kept-remark roaming ...
When in Rome, I think.
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A dressed-memory: never did more frill mean curtained-silence.
Hello?
We’re here, they say.
I remember the moment first-harvested: no possible brimming is
ever frank. At that age, who knew filth could be forward. I thought
I could cut it down.
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Look, the leaping is possible, I think. I watch the way evening attaches
to us. See its starting point? It banded, uncontrolled and gleaming.
Our jewel. Not all worlds see the darkness.
Remember: the world is good, that leaping center is a tuned heart.
I want that melody.
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What world do you want me in, now? I ask
I feel broad-throated, and slippy.
I say, tell me the times the chronicle mentions me.
56, she says.
Let me be clear: I knew. I said, I knew. I wanted to have my own grown romance.
Plant me another. Do it now.
Source: Poetry (March 2016)