Poetry by Carole Greenfield
And didn’t we spark, didn’t we spin in our different skies,
the first time we unearthed veins of gold and silver threading
the lines between us?
Didn’t we emit quantities of white light, dazzled the darkness,
and didn’t your laugh snake itself round my heart,
a lovely writhing?
Didn’t we say to ourselves, This is the one I’ve been searching for,
my whole life long? And didn’t I try not to listen to the voices
telling me,
This is the serpent in the garden,
this is the key to the puzzle,
the end to my peace,
the reason why I will never
know Heaven again?
[Author’s note: Tourbillion, another name for a serpent, is also a type of star that spins in the sky and gives off large quantities of gold, silver, or white light.]
Carole Greenfield grew up in Colombia and lives in New England, where she teaches multilingual learners at a public elementary school. Her work has appeared in Stone Poetry Quarterly, Sky Island Journal, The Plentitudes and other places. Her debut collection, Weathering Agents, was released by Beltway Editions.
