Bloodroot

I have seen
a light green
leaf, closely coiled around
a stalk, emerge
through winter
brown leaves.

A flower rose
above, white
as fresh snow
atop a mountain.

Eight oval petals
opened like
parts of an eye
eager to behold
all that's new.

I dug and scratched
the rootstalk
and saw a red
juice out of which
Potawatomi boiled
tea to bathe burns
and settlers squeezed
onto a lump of sugar
they held in the mouth
to cure sore throat.

White petals,
open again beneath
my eyelids.

Leathery leaves
rub against my fingertips.
Red potion,
cure this tongue
and move it
toward praise
of your powers.

Bloodroot; Indiana Poems

Norbert Krapf
Named Indiana Poet Laureate in 2008