To Run

The Hedges

To sit among the hedges

she wonders toward

the other side of it—

Are there happy plates and cups?

Are the utensils

properly placed?

To run among the hedges,

she wonders along the length of it—

What causes the sudden change

from green

to the tarnish of spoons?

The eye turns downward.

First it turned away,

then turned itself inward.

Now it closes.

The happy days were there—

a pale cup-ring

drying into the table.

Gladly admitting

they hardly existed

is the weight finally falling.

I long to go.

To marry myself to death,

not its dead,

and to finally be ended

of this boring cycle.

No ode or its idea

is without it.

Marni Fraser

0928.2026

V:XVI PM

Julia Margaret Cameron, The Gardener’s Daughter, 1867. Mary Ryan, model. Albumen print.