Malsaine: May Flowers
Saturated, Malsaine elides late-spring.
Daily rains diffuse and splay us clumped dolls,
scarcely articulated, seeping out
of habit. Drudged noon’s slovenly, cozens
Lacrimae Street’s magnolia’s latest blooms
down into the playground’s trenched drainage ditch.
A few tepals still full-fleshed smell divine
breasting currents with grass blent in street dust
until all’s flotsam circling some load
of soiled debris tumped on the flooding cut
—brimfilled, then spit quick into the gully,
runoff disclosing sneakers, a nylon
backpack’s happy princess, handful of braids
jewelled with redblue beads. It moves earth to free
the lost child. Silent, patient, she proceeds.
_________________
Manny Blacksher
Review by Jared Pearce
For my current location the scene is the dying snow heaps: all along those wasting glaciers the rubbish of the human world springs and blooms. I like the images here, the reversal to finding spring full of blossoms, or, at least, blossoms of our own planting.