Leaves by Miriam Levine

Shit for Brains, don’t tell me,
“That’s the end of the leaves.”
You with your fancy degree.

Oak leaves come down
all winter. Catalpas drop
green, my idea of infinity.

Just when you think
it’s over, there’s more,
there’s spring as close

as I get to eternity except
to make you a shit-brain
in my poem forever,

Big Mouth, with your
empty, facile phrases.
I’m the one raking.

Can’t you see how the leaf
escapes the prong? If only
we could. Could we be bold

as that tree, finally bare to the foot,
not bothering to step out of its leaves,
and come back loaded with bloom?


		Miriam Levine
		Leaves
		Shit for Brains, don’t tell me, “That’s the end of the leaves.” You with your fancy degree. Oak leaves come down all winter. Catalpas drop green, my idea of infinity. Just when you think it’s over, there’s more, there’s spring as close as I get to eternity except to make you a shit-brain in my poem forever, Big Mouth, with your empty, facile phrases. I’m the one raking. Can’t you see how the leaf escapes the prong? If only we could. Could we be bold as that tree, finally bare to the foot, not bothering to step out of its leaves, and come back loaded with bloom?
		Miriam Levine was born in Paterson, New Jersey but did not hear of William Carlos Williams until she got to college. Her collection of poems, The Dark Opens, 2008, was chosen by Mark Doty for the Autumn House Poetry Prize. Her books include: In Paterson, a novel; Devotion, a memoir; and three collections of poetry. (For her take on people, places, and art, you may go to miriamlevine.blogspot.com.)
		© Miriam Levine All Rights Reserved