The Alma Files<\/p>\n
From: Onyxvelvet@aol.com
\nDate: Tue, 11 Mar 2003 17:17:11 EST
\nSubject: hi
\nTo: smorsepluggy@yahoo.com<\/p>\n
Dear Stephen<\/p>\n
Laura Stamps suggested (after we found we were both writing poems for new babies the same week) that i send you some poems I wrotefor a friend who is adopting a baby from Guatemala– in fact she is down there this week.
\ni thought i would send you the whole file– I just typed it– some variant versions etc– I don’t usually send to online magazines– seems harder to keep track of etc– but here are some
\nhope you like them– it was actually a request from her mother in law
\nthat her friends write a poem for the new baby called\u00a0AWAITING ALMA
\nbest<\/p>\n
Lyn<\/p>\n
If you ever wondered how many drafts it takes to write a poem, then you should\u00a0look at these\u00a0<\/a>and perhaps rephrase the question.<\/em><\/p>\n Stephen<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n ALMA<\/p>\n calla lilies and roses ALMA KARMINA<\/p>\n singing without words AWAITING ALMA<\/p>\n Like March, something WAITING FOR ALMA<\/p>\n Your house, Delilah says, WHEN DELILAH TELLS ME LILIES<\/p>\n and tangerine trees AWAITING ALMA<\/p>\n when Delilah tells me IN YOUR HOUSE DELILAH SAYS<\/p>\n I smell Guatemala, In your house, Delilah FOR ALMA KARMINA<\/p>\n In a quilt of crimson, FOR ALMA KARMINA<\/p>\n in a quilt of –Lyn Lifshin<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Alma Files From: Onyxvelvet@aol.com Date: Tue, 11 Mar 2003 17:17:11 EST Subject: hi To: smorsepluggy@yahoo.com Dear Stephen Laura Stamps suggested (after we found we were both writing poems for new babies the same week) that i send you some … Continue reading
\ncartwheel on her
\nbunting under
\nwoven crimson
\ncloth. Behind her
\nkohl eyes, who
\nknows what dreams
\ngrow. Emerald
\nand jade thru
\nshutters, she
\nclutches a plastic
\nring as other
\nfingers long to
\nhold her, to
\ncircle her in
\narms, be the
\nring her life
\nwill slide into
\neasily as the
\nmoon over her
\nalmond skin,
\nlike their love<\/p>\n
\nwhile the ones longing
\nfor her wait for
\nher to turn their
\nwords to singing.
\nThe birds have started,
\nlight’s coming back.
\nSomewhere in a jungle,
\nrose mist. She is on her way
\nNow the stillness of waiting,
\nthe darkness of her hair<\/p>\n
\nthaws, catches its
\nbreath. I think of
\nblown glass giraffes
\na heart beat could shatter
\nsomeone waits for her
\nbreath, for the words to
\nbe skin, her eyes,
\nobsidian flowers
\nsomeone can almost taste
\nher hair, has memorized
\nrose bud lips
\nThey touch her photograph
\nthe way you touch moonlight
\nYOUR HOUSE, DELILAH SAYS, SMELLS LIKE GUATEMALA
\nAwaiting Alma Karmina when your tangerine tree blooms.
\nShe smiles, says its scent stays
\nin the house. I think of a
\nmahogany eyed baby, that
\nmusk in her cotton, of
\nthe sweetness waiting,
\nthe arms longing to
\nhold her, a small flower.
\nThe heart shaped petals
\nopen, fill my house with
\nsuch sweetness it
\nfills every room
\nlike Alma<\/p>\n
\nsmells like Guatemala
\nwhen your tangerine
\ntree blooms. She smiles,
\nsays its scent stays
\nin these rooms. I think
\nof a mahogany eyed
\nbaby, that musk in
\nher cotton, of the
\nsweetness waiting,
\nthe arms longing to
\nhold her, a small flower.
\nThe heart shaped petals
\nopen, fill my house with
\nsuch sweetness it
\nfills every room
\nlike Alma<\/p>\n
\nlike mine grow all
\nover Guatemala, are
\nin bloom when we
\nhave snow, I tell her
\na friend will have a
\ndaughter probably
\nfrom some town
\nclose to such sweet-
\nness. She beams, Ait
\nwill bring her beauty
\nand sweetness, like
\nthese blossoms. The
\nsweetest petals I
\never had in my house,
\nthey fill each room,
\na delicate spray. They
\nare special as a baby’s
\nfingers she tells
\nme a delight she
\nsays like this
\nnew baby will bring<\/p>\n
\nlilies and tangerine
\ntrees like mine grow
\nall over Guatemala,
\nare in bloom when
\nwe have snow, I tell
\nher a friend will have
\na daughter probably
\nfrom some town
\nclose to such sweet-
\nness. She beams, Ait
\nwill bring her beauty
\nand sweetness, like
\nthese blossoms. The
\nsweetest petals I
\never had in my house,
\nthey fill each room,
\na delicate spray. They
\nare special as a baby’s
\nfingers she tells
\nme a delight she
\nsays like this
\nnew baby will bring<\/p>\n
\na scent sweeter than
\nlilies. AIn my old
\ncountry, she says
\nAthey cover the
\ntangerine trees and
\norange blossoms,
\nkeep them under
\nwraps. I think
\nof the baby my friend
\nwaits for. A We can’t
\nsee the petals, she says
\nso we dream of their
\nsweetness, imagine
\neach petal waiting,
\nsweet and fragile
\nas a baby’s fingers,
\nskin, a gift we can
\nbarely wait for the
\nweeks ahead to
\nunwrap
\nAWAITING ALMA<\/p>\n
\nsays, I smell Guatemala,
\na scent sweeter than
\nlilies. AIn my old
\ncountry, she says
\nAthey cover the
\ntangerine trees and
\norange blossoms,
\nkeep them under
\nwraps. I think
\nof the baby my friend
\nwaits for. AWe can=t
\nsee the petals, she says
\nso we dream of their
\nsweetness, imagine
\neach petal waiting,
\nsweet and fragile
\nas a baby’s fingers,
\nskin, a gift we can
\nbarely wait for the
\nweeks ahead to
\nunwrap<\/p>\n
\nwrapped in blazing cotton.
\nIn a dream past Mayan
\nstones where stars
\ntrail lilies and jaguars.
\nAlma, sweet bud opening,
\nwaiting for fingers,
\nawaiting the arms
\nthat dream of
\nholding her. Onyx
\neyes, a song about
\nto flower, a song of
\nflowering in a
\ncountry where flowers
\nbloom all night, cover
\neverything: Alma Karmina,
\neven her name a
\nflower singing,
\na lullaby<\/p>\n
\ncotton where
\nflowers bloom
\nin the night
\nstar trails and
\nvolcanos, past
\nthe trees of
\nGuatemala,
\na song blooming.
\nLilies in her
\nhair, her dark eyes,
\nAlma, the soul,
\nthe beginning of
\nthe alphabet
\nwaiting to sing<\/p>\n