The Garlic Festival
by Dunstan Skinner 

It took another language to cure my back;
on Inis Toraigh  I found the well,
faced north to a curtain of Atlantic mist,
cupped by hand a drink, leaving my stone
by the lip, amidst loose scales of rock
undisturbed for centuries.
My back no longer bothers me
and I have learned from the experience. 

Last week, crossed the Cascades
and, dancing, purchased garlic from the hippies.
With my bag of Asian Tempest I am ready
for the casting of my spell.
On my return, I fell in love
with the jade-rare gem Diablo Lake
and I know now what her heart will look like. 

Dunstan Skinner is a student at The Evergreen State College.