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