Covering A Natural Vestment by Peter Magliocco

Your husband struggles with his gift,
the art-making burden he’s enslaved by;
you meander sullenly around yours,
the patient tapestry of poetry threaded
around a spool of cleverness, a cloth
unworn by everyday working people.
You would sew lies to landscapes
if only you could back away, perhaps
reconsider & alter, if need be, that
terrible gravity words are heir to?
Still Sylvia’s portrait above your kit
mocks your distance from life now
lived in another part of this forest, far
from contemporary cloisters resonant
with reality’s naked bestowing of seed.  
Walking through sumac, brushing back
pine needles over endless excitation
to see life as a prehistoric existence
forever preserved in the present, be-
fore the future can continue hanging
all the shallow glittering memories
moth-bound in your mind’s closet.

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