Wisteria
for Patrick Norman
I could write solely about death.
I could write solely about agony
and misfortune.
But how can I write about these, and not
about that, wisteria; how before
the catastrophic storm hit, it was filled
with hundreds of grapish blossoms—
Oh how they hung!
After six or seven hours of being whipped
to shreds—of being gnawed
down
to a stub—completely destroyed—
to what appeared to be the point of no return,
it came back up, zealous, as to show—
no matter how ripped
and torn
our lives have been,
or how troubled
they may be—
what gets us up, and going again,
is what runs
deep.
Like its thousand roots, webbing long—
and long—
into the hard soil.
AHREND TORREY is the author of This Moment (Pinyon Publishing, 2024), If it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant: The Jane Kenyon Erasure Poems (Pinyon Publishing, 2024), For What Are the Blossoms Reaching? (Limited Artist’s Edition, American Academy of Bookbinding, 2023), Ripples (Pinyon Publishing, 2023), Bird City, American Eye (Pinyon Publishing, 2022), and Small Blue Harbor (Poetry Box Select, 2019). His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, Slippery Elm Literary Journal, The Greensboro Review, The Westchester Review, Welter, and West Trade Review, among others. He lives in Chicago with his husband, Jonathan, their two rat terriers, Dichter and Dova, and Purl, their cat. Learn more about his poetry at ahrendtorreypoetry.wixsite.com/website
