(no subject)

[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

Lilac

I should take out the lilac beside the house
Before it roots
Into the fieldstone foundation.
But every spring, I say the job will keep
Until after the lilac blooms.

The vanity of the lilac's flowering
Is in the brevity of those white or purple blossoms.
The rest of the year, it is a woody weed,
Dark-leaved, serviceable for a border or a little shade,
A sermon in humble usefulness.
(The saint's severity, Freud said,
Is the proof of desire. And what is greater
Than the pride of the outwardly humble?)

The lilac's bark is tough, and rasps the knuckles.
The sap clings to the saw, and the wood
Is dense, purplish at the heart,
Surprisingly heavy in the hand.
It might bloom all summer, without reproach.

This too is vanity, I thought,
As I took the saw from its nail,
As I ran my fingers over the purple rings of the wood.
Something should be made of this.

Jordan Smith
For Appearances
2001 Tampa Review Prize for Poetry
University of Tampa Press