Some Other Garden Read Free

treasure
.
    – The Little Flowers of Saint Clare

ANONYMOUS JOURNAL
    During this long winter we rarely go outside, though it is seldom warmer in our rooms. The interior of the palace has become a condensed winter world – cold mirrors, frozen chandeliers. Our fogged breath precedes us everywhere, softening candelabra and fresco.
    It is as if the garden has completely disappeared. We can hear the wind and the groaning of the giant trees. But we never see outside. Thousands of window panes are covered by a thick frost.
    There are no more gold settings at the table. Too much warmth in the cutlery is ridiculous. Soon the silver will disappear as well, reducing us to crockery.
    It is February and we are surprised by a miraculous sun. He insists that we move outdoors, walk in his white garden. We don’t object, put on our cloaks and boots, leave rooms for the first time in months.
    At first we are overcome by endless snow and the shock of the first cold swallow of air, fresh on the tissues of our lungs. But when we can see again we are amazed by the unbroken surface of white and the open blue of the sky. The ground plan of the garden is erased by winter.
    The statues are confused, awkward under hats and epaulets of snow. Urns grow ice. Our steps are new marks, making new boundaries.
    We move towards the Bassin D’Apollon, watching as the metal forms take shape against white. We are able to pick out the four horses, the sea monster, the torso of the young god emerging from his chariot. The wind has swept all the snow away from the Bassin, revealing enclosed ice,thick as marble. The sculpture is now locked, changed completely, made impotent by ice.
    He, standing there looking at this, understands for the first time that all his monuments are immovable, frozen in their own time. They are like novelties on display, already under glass.
    The Sun God and his Chariot, powerless in a cold, cold season.
    The light, the wind, revealing all of this. Making the image totally clear. And totally brutal.

WINTER OF 1709
    You rearrange the lace
at your wrist with cold fingers
the freeze deepens
    hens are laying frozen eggs
behind the kitchen garden
blossoms are trapped in the false
promise of tubers
    cold days
the last time
I wore this cloak against
the weather I noticed
    how velvet remains unaffected
by the breeze   fades only
when the sun touches it
over and over
    the sun no longer reaches me
the colour of this cold
is permanent
when trees become cathedral
bones over our heads
    you add another acre
to the dormant garden
ice silvers steps and paths
and fountains
    your finger prints
on everything you touch

SILENCED
    Autumn
false gold falling on actuality
stone walls all around
    summer hid the prison
the perfect palace
draped in green and growing
overtop the stairs
    winter now
and every word is opened
syllables ride to the horizon
in the grim hands of the post
    false gold covers gravel
nothing hides in green
    this palace
this prison
    built in time
to silence
every loss I speak

LADY REASON
    Emotionally
I am not yet ready for
Madame de Maintenon
    Your Solidity

he calls her    or
Lady Reason
    she answering
Majesty
Majesty
    he bows
to the superior religion
she holds up a mirror to
his crime
    his passion
the vanity of wars
and women won
    landscapes pillaged
    Lady Reason
Lady Reason
you move in a different realm
    pulling out the power of
the lust of a King
    his will to control
the world
himself
    I am not ready for you
    I am still
running through crooked
paths in my imagination

ONE MEMORY OF OPENING
    With nothing to hold
I remember open windows
a garden or lake beyond
you holding me
    how our clothing opened
and closed again    like windows
the night or light entering
us pouring out
    surely there is more than this
one memory of opening
the breeze from the world
around us    a sail on the lake
crowds waiting on the shore
    wind on my sleeve
a sail suddenly pregnant
the ease with which
we fell together then
and fell apart

DOCTOR