Sylvia's Flowers
She caressed them within her poems and fingers
They bled, dirtying her tidy appearance
Betraying gems of disguise!
Life and death atop snapped green narrows
I feel her, lusting their ripe oozing whistles
The pollen of sex yellowing her finger tips
Caked on her bottom lip
Dying at her clitoris
The caskets always appeared
Grand and cold and clipped
Red tulips saviors crucified, her whitened knuckles
I’ve gone mad, I’ve gone mad!
&
Poppies
Sweet poppies
Opium bags, foggy sanatoriums
Easing veils and crippling
Slaps
Of so many lilies &
The lily she faced, the mirror of her outer edges
Fading
Never what she thought
Never
Did dying
And barren organs
Cry so
January 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment