All that I love I fold over once And once again And keep in a box Or a slit in a hollow post Or in my shoe. All that I love? Why, yes, but for the moment — And for all time, both. Something that folds and keeps easy, Son‘s note or Dad‘s one gaudy tie, A roto picture of a young queen, A blue Indian shawl, even A money bill. It‘s utter sublimation A feat, this heart‘s control Moment to moment To scale all love down To a cupped hand‘s size, Till seashells are broken pieces From God‘s own bright teeth. And life and love are real Things you can run and Breathless hand over To the merest child.
Bonsai by Edith Tiempo