Greenberg, Miriam Bird

English

The Open Repository @Binghamton (The ORB)

Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal Volume 7 Issue 2 Article 30 December 2008 A Problem of Taxonomy Miriam Bird Greenberg Follow this and additional works at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate Recommended Citation Greenberg, Miriam Bird (2008) "A Problem of Taxonomy," Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal: Vol. 7: Iss. 2, Article 30. Available at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol7/iss2/30 This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). It has been accepted for inclusion in Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal by an authorized editor of The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). For more information, please contact ORB@binghamton.edu. A PROBLEM OF TAXONOMY Miriam Bird Greenberg In the low dusk swallows swoop from their bearded nests in the eaves. The evening primroses are in bloom, fragile vining flowers, and with them the children have given themselves Hider mustaches yellow with pollen, are out by the mailbox doubled over "in laughter at the goodness of their good idea. Soon everyone will be indoors, scratching at chigger bites and elbowing each other out of the way for the bathroom. Here we have a little problem with taxonomy, I tell the kids. Only postmen can have facial hair like that anymore, I tell them. Credulous, I take them for a walk. I point out the swaybacked barn where a mountain lion hissed at me from the hayloft, the farm where a certain 4-Her had a sheep which gave birth ro rwo-headed progeny. Like the forked tongue of the snake, the split body of a bifurcated carrot, all classed rogether in the 19th century wunderkammer, again we encounter problems of taxonomy. The next night everyone is setting off Black Cats in the abandoned mororhome, dislodging the night-roosting chickens perched low and fat in the branches of a nearby tree. Towards 85 1Greenberg: A Problem of TaxonomyPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2008HARPUR PALATE home I lure them, tell them the one about my grandmother with the armful of sparklers back before fire had been discovered, and this was also when there wasn't a Fourth of July and we all used the irregular Gregorian calendar which skipped days. She li t a green genie sparkler which Rared up lucent, only out Rew an emerald spa rk that caught the corner of one bedsheet snapping in the breeze inched, ignited, outwards li ke a map of westward expansion and ran, clothesline twine its fuse, till the whole line was eaten up with Rames smoldering into the dusk. Out howled the volunteer fire department and pumped water from the pond, but too late: Our clothes were burned up, ashes, char, and sack cloth, and our bedsheets too. That winter we slept inside a cougar to stay warm, or sometimes just a goat though cougars were warmer. A cougar, the kids wanted to know, disbelieving the whole thing. Behind me the old motorhome is engulfed in Rame, and here the children mutter among themselves twirl ing the tips of their moustaches which have grown verdant and luxurious over time. 86 2Harpur alate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 7, Iss. 2 [2008], Art. 30https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol7/iss2/30

A Problem of Taxonomy

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A Problem of Taxonomy

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