YOUR STORY

dear old friend
are you angry
why won’t you write me
beloved teacher
is what I called you
in my mind
mild morning
cal­i­for­nia depress­ing light
uncer­tain­ly standing
between the rooms
I ask myself
why such anger
I walk downtown
busy worrying
all day I feel
I am sure
a man is holding
an impor­tant geranium
in a story
you are writing
the geranium
I see
is golden
there is no such thing
as a gold geranium
except on the ear
who would wear
such hor­ri­ble jewelry
it is also a color
deep zon­al scarlet
I had a couch
it was total­ly red
I gave it to Betsy
her gray cat sleeps
she is in her garden
con­fus­ing­ly most geraniums
are not
they are some oth­er flower
genus pelargonium
who cares
even­tu­al­ly everyone

POEM FOR AN ENVELOPE 

yes­ter­day
in the mod­ern museum
the odalisque
stared at me
with green eyes
from a cen­tu­ry ago
when many painters
start­ed to see
the giant edge
of this contaminated
won­drous inexorable
storm cloud
age we find
our­selves alone
togeth­er under
all day using
eyes to drink
so much information
while the keepers
of the house
we have not elected
dis­cuss just war
and our serv­er farms
sound like the last
bee colony
cer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly touching
down on a field
of magen­ta flowers
dear future
I held this paper
so a few molecules
once part of me
are right now
to your ceiling
if you have one
ris­ing and soon
through a green
space inside you
no one knows
an elec­tric wheelchair
will qui­et­ly carry
one of our young soldiers
yours sincerely
hum­ming­bird destroyer

Matthew Zaprud­er is the author of three col­lec­tions of poet­ry, most recent­ly Come On All You Ghosts (Cop­per Canyon 2010), a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Cur­rent­ly he works as an edi­tor for Wave Books and teach­es as a mem­ber of the core fac­ul­ty of UCR-Palm Desert’s Low Res­i­den­cy MFA in Cre­ative Writ­ing. He lives in San Francisco.