Urban Physic Garden



June 19th, 2011 · No Comments · Medicinal Plants Poetry Project

The temple that lived in her imagination, and through her, was built of words – and was all the sweeter for it.
His name was Hans and he was a good-looking young man, probably about the same age as her. Tall and slim and fair. He wasn’t married and they got on just fine, but they didn’t exchange addresses because they felt it was futile. He gave her a talisman, a keepsake – his watch. She treasured it and wore it around her neck.
Dangerfield, Daniel, Danzig, Daphne, Daphnis, Dardenelle, Dar-es-Salaam, Dariush, Darayavoosh, Dark, Darling, Darlings, Dartford, Dasht-e-Lut, Darwin, Dante, David, Davood, Dearborn, Decopolis, Deneb, Denebs, Death.
I apologise for neglecting the female role in my discussion of her male descendents. Her daughters are also significant in their procession of pedigree. Like all of us, she had half her genes from her father and half from her mother. The gravestone is inscribed, “Here lieth the perfect symmetry of the much lamented High-flyer, by whom her and her fertile offspring the celebrated birds (or ‘bird-bird’) have acquired their noble fortune.”
She once famously said she was a “song and dance girl” and in later years, she found solace in the art of performance. She found a way of keeping in touch with her muse without the need for proliferation. But more than anything, it seems she didn’t know what to do. In the end it was place that made her happy. The only place.
Michael Zand
(From Herbarium, a new poetry anthology. Launch and reading 22 July)

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