As If They Might Have Friends
The garden seemed as good a place as any
for a broken piece of mirror I had salvaged.
I dug it in behind the herbs & spices
to make them feel as if they might have friends,
then watched as the gardener held up the can,
twin streams of trickle turning earth from dust to
rich, watched the glimpse of just the woman’s
waist, her forearm, inner wrist that glimmered in
and out of shimmering importance.
In the beginning,
when all the musicians ever played
was a game called “Keep
The Silence” and the only cutlery
available was a skewer and a tooth,
when everything was eaten
from flat plates and kids
were born dry as a bone
and waiting to be licked —
in the beginning, this beginning,
no one ever loved
or understood the passage
of time and loss
the way the river understands
the rivulets and running taps
that hold the desert in their hearts
and offer up their simple consolation:
a spoon for the eye, a bowl
of water and want.
Harmony Button has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Web awards, and was awarded the Larry Levis Prize (Academy of American Poets). You can find her work in many corners of the interwebs, including Colorado Review, Southwestern American Lit, BlazeVOX, White Whale Review, Drafthorse, and Ithaca Lit. Harmony is a regular columnist for PaperTape Magazine and by day, she is the English Department Chair of the Waterford School in Utah. You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org – fan mail, favorite poems, book deals, and really funny cat photos are always appreciated.