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Luisa Muradyan
Instead of Ascending
after Gerald Stern
I was going to write a poem
where I make love to the fields.
I would note that the dandelions
just need someone to blow them
and that grass was best when wet and
bowed over in pleasure
but instead of ascending
into the world of the pastoral
I will behave like a Jew
and mourn the dead bird
in my driveway. A fledgling
who had fallen out of its nest
pushed out by invaders, by those
who would erase its song and
tiny dancing wings. I laid down
next to her and saw the sky how
she saw it. Empty of anything
worth writing about except
of course, the body
of her mother.