FOUND POEM
By Constance Hansen
"Irony is
the opposite
of wrinkly" read
the ironing
board neighbors left
on the corner
for anyone
who might want it.
In their garden
a handwritten
sign read: please smell
our sensual garden.
But the cruelest
month was again
refuting her
epitaph with
the softness of
Spring sunshine, bulbs,
and what they made
together. Tulips
exploded yellow,
red, pink, purple,
orange, you name it.
There was nothing
they couldn't do
but fragrance; scent
was not a sense
they held power
over. Almost
like the meaning
of the garden
stood opposite
the meaning the
sign had led me
to expect. Or
did readers of
Dylan Thomas,
vicar poet,
live there? When his
five and country
senses speak, they
break day, they break
bread, they break glass,
they break sensual.