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Honeysuckle: (Year One: Garden).

(Year One: Garden)

   By day you could bear it, it somehow blent in or was mitigated
   by the scent of its grander companions: the eucalyptus
   who presided, unquarreled with; & cheeky geraniums;

   the lavender whisper of stock & stalks
   of rosemary: afterthought, stuck
   among the fishes & loaves of the phlox: maiden aunt;

   so you could mooch along, morningly, watering, underwhelmed
      by its
   kind of skinny greenishness, those not prepossessing blooms
   it came forth with every so often: little eggy squiggles.
   (The major thrill, I have to say it,
   was bougainvillea, cascading fuschia'ly, creme brulee, in
      perpetuity, it
   never even stopped to think if it

   was in season or not: the Suzanne Farrell
   of what we'd bought: a generosity unsought in my minor key
   plantation;) but then it was April

   & out from behind the journeyman ivy & K-Mart lantana vine,
   fighting free, on their way to a messy divorce (even I
   could descry it) came this luscious

   hallelujah of smell
   too big for the vessel
   emitting it: crawling along

   the top of a wall dividing us
   from the contiguous: was this roilingness
   indescribable but ambrosial, thuriferous:

   Frankincense & Myrrh but even sweeter & fuller: vanilla &
   altogether else: our nights became unsleepable, our windows
      thrown apart,
   & we lay there, inhaling
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Author:Kort, Susanne
Publication:Prairie Schooner
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2006
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