Untitled (“A mind’s-length plot…”)

A mind’s-length plot with thought was sown In secrecy, but it has grown Into–

Exotic spices, with strange faces From having looked on distant places. Gum Arabic, from the veins Of noonday genii in heat-drunk lands Or the hard-to-come-by foot Of white centred anise-root. Baskets crammed with saffron wands– Nutmegs jostle, hearty oaves, Embarrassing the comely cloves– From far lands they bear away Coriander, caraway.

Names whose iteration bear Parceled gusts of foreign air Subtleties but half revealed To the importuning field– As within a woman’s mind Broods one half humankind.