Dream of Ivy

you know the story of
the woman in a
turret and how ivy
puts its fingers
across the moon.
And besides, no one
could hear. Ivy
that grows like
kudzu in the
deepest part of Georgia
swallowing up a
single house
in one night. I would
have lowered my long
hair to a lover,
lured him with blood
in a bottle, each
drop a ruby with
a poem etched on it.
Or carved my initials
in the grey stone
around his heart. I’d
have talked to the
birds or waited,
slept 20 years, given
away my children.
Only I was outside
trying to get in

Visit Lyn Lifshin online. Check out her book Knife Edge & Absinthe: The Tango Poems,