SHORT POEMS AND SPIN-OFFS: EMILY AND THE EXPERIENCE OF SURPRISE
by Denise Levertov
Page 8
Another poem from my back yard is called "In Praise of Allium." This one's a tiny bit longer than those I'm picking for the most part, but it didn't seem too inappropriate to the occasion. "In Praise of Allium"-Why? Because it's the kind of thing that I think Emily Dickinson was very good at noticing.
No one celebrates the allium.
The way each purposeful stem
ends in s globe, a domed umbel,
makes people think,
'Drumsticks,' and that's that.
Besides, it's related to the onion.
Is that any reason
for disregard? The flowers-look-
are bouquets of miniature florets,
each with six elfin pointed petals
and some narrower ones my eyes
aren't sharp enough to count,
and three stamens about the size
of a long eyelash.
Every root
sends up a sheaf of sturdy
ridged stems, bounty
to fill your embrace. The bees
care for the allium, if you don't-
hear them now, doing their research,
humming the arias
of a honey opera, Allium it's called,
gold fur voluptuously
brushing that dreamy mauve.
TO ONE STEEPED IN BITTERNESSNail the rose
to your mind's door
like a rat, a thwarted chickenhawk.
Yes, it has had its day.
And the water
poured for you
which you disdain to drink,
yes, throw it away.
Yet the fierce rose
stole nothing
from your cooped heart,
nor plucked your timid eye;
and from inviolate rock
the liquid light
was drawn, that's dusty now
and your lips dry.
