Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2020



Homepage Photograph via Flickr by Rich B-S

On this late April day, all the dormant powers
          break into their first green disclosures,
                    digging out from under rocks,

surging up from circuits of soil and sap,
          dirt, darkness and the deep cold water tables,
                    holding out the early seasonal revelations:

hyacinth and tulip, magnolia and dogwood.
          Around the fountains and park benches they rewrite
                    their long history from the first day until now,

an unfolding accented by sweet aromas that remind me
          memory is another flowering of imagination,
                    seductive as any other beauty and why

I can’t seem to throw away a chestnut
          snatched from the floor of late October colors
                    and since then, palmed in my pocket,

its smooth woodiness under my thumb, its hard promise
          like an elegant refusal, the friction against my finger,
                    an integrity that yields to nothing but its own terms.