Two Metaphors

Thomas Orean

The calendula
   Is it just
   that a glassful of water tapped from a pipe
   should prolong, refeed, and grow
   the calendula in my bowl,
   while I,
   gone the little drop of Thee
   (the tasteless sightless touchless Thee),
   fade and wither?
   in vain the flagons of past wisdom,
   in vain the salts and ashes of profile,
   or bread of dream.
   Is it just, my God,
   that I fade
   while the flower rooted from the garden
   lives on kitchen water?
Love
   what is a prologue
   we seek to make a tome,
   extract posterior images
   upon this bone,
   and dying as the initial
   Once-upon-a-time
   begins:-
   a curious finger rummages
   for the official
   colophon.