The Mango Goddess

My wife is the mango goddess

not by birthright or decree

but by a local democracy

When she moves through the fruit section

squeezing, watching, and listening,

the locals ask her

about the qualities of mangos

"Why do they ask me these things?"

she asks in a Jewish tone

"Because you are the mango goddess, " I reply

"But I don't look remotely..., I'm Irish,

I should know about potatoes,

Why don't they ask me about potatoes?"

"Because you are the mango goddess, " I reply

She knows the difference between ripe and rotten

She passes judgement on raw and rare

Her village is as global as her vision

She commands the economy

and pays her subjects well

When she is out of the grocer's

and in my arms late at night

she asks me why I chose this night

for toast and tea

"Because you are the mango goddess," I reply

9/97

copyright Trevor Haug 1997

from "Poems from the Hedge"

Tulip Yellow Moon

Tulip yellow moon

the children looked for you

this afternoon

while you were hiding

waiting for the sky

to finish bleeding

Then you rose and hung

from a dark pine bough

04

copyright 2004 Trevor Haug

from "Tulip Yellow Moon, Verses for a Child-like Tribe"

Spring for Beginners

She cannot yet turn over

so she sits on the lawn 

in her car seat while the twins 

and the neighbor's cat

orbit her world

She cannot help but see

what we have been missing - 

the budding maple

six stories high

an apartment for blackbirds 

and mourning doves

Beyond, against the blue,

mute clouds

try to invent a dance

that we fail to imagine

because we rarely look up

Her eyes move to

her first movie screen,

the side of the white house

that shows all of our shadows

in the afternoon

The cat and she

hear the trucks growl

as they gear down

to pass through

town

She feels the same slow breeze

that feathers all our faces

while New England greens

04

copyright 2004 Trevor Haug

from "Poems of New England"

Boabab

I ask a local how old is the tree

60 years, he says with little confidence

I'm thinking at least 200

Either way, it is beyond our span

Another tells me it is hollow inside

and can hide a whole village

So it has uses

beyond holding my mouth open

And I ask myself,

Why would such a village

need to hide?

07

copyright 2007 Trevor Haug

from "Poems of Africa"

Amber

The amber in San Cristobal
is ancient and unsurpassed
we are told with conviction,
colours of India pale ale,
strong English tea,

and Victoria honey
impregnating rings and pendants
On my little finger
is the eye of a reptile
refracting every sun
like pine pitch
The stone on my hand
observes my every move
with a ritual
that is ancient and unsurpassed

11/15/07 

copyright 2007 Trevor Haug

from "Stone Speech, Poems from Latin America"

The Rains Have Come

The rains have come, plural storms
steady, refusing to improvise
They would seduce me to sleep
if not for the gypsy violinists,
full of coffee and arpeggios,
dancing around my bed
I did not ask for this much rain
No flyers came
to solicit my vote for the wind
I expect weather
But all must be balanced
Hence the mad bohemian
folkfest after midnight
And how my wife sleeps through it all
I shall never know

15/11/07

copyright 2007 Trevor Haug

from "West of Vancouver, Poems from the Island"