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Clover

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On a brain-gray day,
                                      he lay on the hill-slanted solar
array with a southern exposure,
toes in the clover
                                mixed in with what are these
pentagrammatic sprays
of pinnate leaves.
                                No clover
here has four leaves:
to each one he says
I have seen you before
                                          in the nuclear hazard
symbol and then again (as
again slants backward)
before that, as nothing but clover
                                                             when childhood was not yet over
and everything was symbol therefore
nothing was.



Source: Poetry (November 2011)

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This poem originally appeared in the November 2011 issue of Poetry magazine

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Clover

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