I float above my personal atlas to
Find a new garden.
I draw contour lines and color fields
Let them fill in like growth rings
The way I imagine the
Landscape of a poem and make
A poem-map, compass rose
Pointing inward and out.
From toothbrush to bedtime story is
The map of a lucky child’s day
The map of “Smoke Maker” has
Six directions,
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I float above my personal atlas to
Find a new garden.
I draw contour lines and color fields
Let them fill in like growth rings
The way I imagine the
Landscape of a poem and make
A poem-map, compass rose
Pointing inward and out.
From toothbrush to bedtime story is
The map of a lucky child’s day
The map of “Smoke Maker” has
Six directions, a veil and a blindfold…
Saffron page after saffron
Page of projections
Territories common and rugged
As stones foliate and fade
I lay pins on the new
Map of the new garden:
A pin for sun
A pin for grapes
A pin for lilacs
A pin for ladybugs
You Are Here
The map of my garden
On this private meridian
Has a pavilion with cushions
A fountain with peacock-green tiles
A path from one to the other
Three pins for honeysuckle and pleasure
I am here at the intersection of
Here and Now
Where golden rose and jasmine
Replace the noxious
Weeds of disturbed places
Where clarity of sky
Prevents its falling.
— Esther Kamkar
