BardBliss: Talisman

We waited many years for this
trumpet vine to finally flower.

Listening to: One of my favorite male voices on the planet.

Today's Bliss Formula: Some trips today to garden stores. Time to fill in some holes in the garden. Time to plant some new trees. Time to prepare for a new pond next spring!

Talisman

There are moments when I allow myself
to indulge in a fantasy where I run away.
It’s always the same.

I would head somewhere warm
like the south of France or Spain,
anywhere I can wear sandals and
short pants almost all year.
I have a bike with a basket,
a small cottage, and gardens
that feed and flower twelve months.

The strangeness of the place,
the distance from where I
now am, the sun, the blueness,
the salt in the air; finally, all of this,
would be enough to rot
this umbilical cord of fear
that trips me up, that keeps
me tied down.

It would rot and I could
easily slice it
with an old kitchen knife.
I would plant its remains
under the tomatoes
and bandage my belly button,
rubbing it with lotion
while it scabbed over,
until, on its own, it fell off.

Then I would place
that scab, that final piece
of you, in a jar on my writing
table, so as not to forget,
a talisman, a source for poems,
stories that must be told,
but no longer a source of pain,
no longer allowing
your blood to boil
in mine.

--christine c. reed