Glaciology

Jonquillity

22 Jonquillity The word jonquil flutters to the page It is no longer alive but doesn’t know that At first I cried, because my father’s face In the coffin was not his face Later I rode my jonquil to the river Sculls went by like arrows with thin legs I joined the old men looking at the river They said the wounds in my side Were breathing holes, keep them open We watched a girl with hair the length Of her body step into a jonquil Hair spread across the wake behind her I folded my jonquil into a psalm The old men laughed and spit sunflower seeds A black dog leapt and paddled after Whatever his master threw into the river I piloted my jonquil to the funeral home We went in to choose the music and the silk My father got the director to laugh Immediately a jonquil sprang to his lapel ...