Tuesday Poem: From "The Grove In The Eye Of Light" poem cycle

 

Hazel

In senior year
I followed
Sister Marietta
down into
the well
of myself
to feast on the glistening
salmon of poetry.

She held the divining rod.

So what if I wrote about riding the bus to nowhere,
or chewed away at my own thumbs
insisting they tasted good ?

Sister Marietta helped me
weave a wishing cap
out of strings of words,
and blessed it with
with the quickening of comets:
her “A’s” crossing
the night sky of the page,
trailing little plusses
along behind them.