I Ask the Moon by Diane LeBlanc

The azaleas, this year without leaves,

are all lip and bone.


Feminine of azaleos, the word

means dry.


Old lore says to plant beans

during a waxing moon.


But first sit naked

in the garden at night.

If you sink or for a minute settle,

almost sprout, it’s time to plant.


So I go naked beneath my plaid robe

and bend to sniff the soil.


The azaleas urge: toe the mulch,

unbutton your knees and squat.


After five months of winter, to be alone

with such possibility.

Categories: Issue 2 - Spring 2012, Periodicals, Poetry | Tags: | Leave a comment

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