ManicDDaily

Garlic

I.
Sitting at the computer,
I feel that I should write about
despair–the darkness of blood,
the darkness of women’s blood especially, un-spun clots
of loss and over-lording,
the web around a newborn’s head, the
hemorrhage of the will-be dead, all manner
of bloated belly–

That I should write about
what I know to be important, the windows black
that look out from
my room, the histrionic
screen, but I can hardly stand
to look at that dark glass, so write instead
about garlic, something
to hand–

I admire garlic–it was ever
a close-knit bunch–I say this not
to be flippant– but because of the way
the cloves cleave
one to its others, the sole backing
the whole, as if understanding
their collective (that is, non-collective) fate–to be cleaved
apart, each turned into
a reification of tears;
to also (oddly) when chopped–I’m at a wooden board right now–
serve as a postcard
of unpillowed baby teeth, as if proffered for safekeeping
by a host of stubby fingers, gapped-toothed grins–

but how to reconcile blood and
baby teeth, burn and savor,
of soil and despoiled, so many little
bulbs of light–

II.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I was haunted by a deep
weakness which was identified at last as a couple of trips past
to India, from which I brought home in my inner carry-on (snuck
past customs), amoeba–both in blobs and tubes,
that splayed me on a neighbor-given
sofa, both of us
frayed, until I was prescribed, finally,
garlic, mini-scimitars swallowed
to do battle with the worms, so many that I smelled
like a salami from down the street–

Oh garlic, how do I use you so
ungently–haphazard in my peel and mince,
you who, only asking for
a wince, gave me
your all–

III.
A singular
plural.
Kind of smelly but
alive.
Doing battle
with worms–

I know there is despair and
I know that what I know
of it is nothing, me
with a whole
child, body.

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A second and belated poem of sorts–very very sorry about the length–for Margaret Bednar’s prompt on With Real Toads--about the art work of Toril Fisher.  Above a picture of garlic that is a collaboration of Toril and Tully (whose full name I don’t know.)