MEMORYUS MOSESAE

Nabokov and his wife will understand

and smile, I think (don’t you?), when you unwrap

this tardy Christmas present, hold in hand

this simple binder, open to find scrap

paper (all I could afford) with my ink

drawings of Memoryus Mosesae.

See this first glossed page, she perches behind

bamboo screen—in Japan legend, the way

you know a lover approaches. Next, two

butterflies sail as one—Chinese symbol

of love. Then, Northeast India, where you

learn origins of Manipur’s tribes all

rose from Memoryus. My intention

with the rest? Bless your imagination.

Roger Armbrust

January 10, 2013

BUTTERFLIES

In Little Rock’s rain, my friend Melissa

celebrates vast swirlings of butterflies

sweeping past her car. Senses a message.

Hours later, my daughter Catherine spies

swarms of printed Monarch stickers on sale

in a Guadalajara shop. Buys them

all for arts projects. I recall Greek tales

of ancient Athens, poets with anthems

honoring their Grass Jewel as the soul;

now sense their flying ghosts saluting dear

Melissa. Mexico’s Aztecs retold

tales of Monarchs as protectors from fear,

reborn spirits of dead warriors. They come

now, guardians to guide my daughter home.

Roger Armbrust

January 9, 2013

KISS-ME-ON-THE-MOUNTAIN

Look within this small sealed glass urn I hand

you with reverence: Impatiens’ soft shade

of violet breathing fresh from highlands

of Annapurna, uprooted by spade

when I found its blossoms a thousand years

ago,  stuffed between ice crags lined like whale’s

teeth. See how its moist, curled flesh would appear

an orchid were it magnified. Petals

so gentle you’d almost kneel before them.

I’ve searched ten centuries for you and this

scene, glow of your raven hair’s diadem,

smile of surprise with the Himalayas’

gift. I cherish how brief light of dusk sky

and flower hue combine to kiss your eyes.

Roger Armbrust

January 8, 2013

ORION ONCE MORE

How heartbreaking this starry sky tonight,

so clear you can spy The Hunter’s blazing

belt buckle tighten as he starts to fight

Taurus yet again, glowing arm raising

to strike the final blow. Such deep sorrow

to witness once more eternal conflict

in our heaven, holding back tomorrow

so the Greeks’ adored hero may protect

his lover Eos, allow her to share

the dawn. How tragic to know his bronze club

won’t block Artemis’s arrow. It tears

through his flaming frame at speed to disturb

the moon. Yet how sweet, though he’ll soon be gone,

we don't have to watch his sad fate alone.

Roger Armbrust

January 6, 2013

WALLY WATTS

Wally Watts with the watermelon head

always worried whenever it would rain.

“I worry, I fear, yes I even dread

I’ll get wet and wear water on the brain!”

His friend Wanda Wafer would always shake

her head. “Don’t worry, Wally,” she’d whisper

with a smile. “Your noggin won’t swell or break

if you run in rain, or even crisper

sleet. Your melon’s 90 percent water

as we speak!” Then Wally worried, “I dream

how summer swelters in. It grows hotter

and hotter! My melon head turns to steam!”

“No! Hot weather will prove the perfect charm,”

laughed Wanda. “Your dome will form a brainstorm!”

Roger Armbrust

January 6, 2013