Danielle Blau

November 26, 2017 Blau Danielle



We never expected this. Shapes
in our shapeless garden. The crude

mound we’ve been growing, Dirt,
is gone. One of the shapes points

to itself, “Willem,” or no,
“Phyllis,” it’s hard to understand.

“That thing,” you say, “I think that
thing’s Dirt mixed with far whispers.”

Low chants from the rubbish shed.
In every direction obscenely

figs sprout. “I’m going in,” you yawn,
and of course Pop’s too busy with

his slime-mold farm to come out
and see. Meanwhile, terrible groans

are general. Terrible wailing and
gnashing and multiplying.

You stroll by, “Dirt’s back,” snap
your chewing gum like a yo-yo, “well,

I mean, not him exactly but a slew
of Baby Dirts.” I turn. The shape

called Willem is there and, behind it,
our garden, a plot of suckling mounds.

On my cheek I can
feel the shape’s spiny breath.

Gravel tears in its eyes  —
my eyes, it’s then I notice.

Danielle Blau’s Rhyme and Reason: Poetry, Philosophy, and the Art of Living the Big Questions is forthcoming from W.W. Norton. Her chapbook mere eye was selected for a Poetry Society of America Chapbook Award, and her poems won first place in the multi-genre Narrative 30 Below Contest. Blau curates and hosts the monthly Gavagai Music + Reading Series (gavagaiseries.com) and can be found at danielleblau.com.