flaming jewels

goldenrods

summer of six
years,
he showed me how to make
goldenrod tea.

i was distressed to learn
it was made from
pale wormy roots
and tangled greens
not from
pretty yellow blossoms.

(or do i misremember?)

i wrinkled up my nose
at the weedy mess
boiling
on the stove

no thanks.

i remember his boy-scout bandanna
neatly coiled around his neck
and the way his knees
stuck out
between tan cuffed shorts
and dark green knee socks
his legs covered with
thirteen-year-old boy fuzz.

he offered me some
but i can't recall
if i drank it

(just a disconnected memory
of his hands covering my mouth
but that from another day i'm sure)

i know i didn't want to

i wonder if i did
(drink)
& if it was bitter.

i don't remember, but
i know that today
i can't pass a field of goldenrod
without being
steeped in fear.

jewel@gleeful.com
a seraph production