10 posts tagged “flowers”

Foxglove Purpurea

foxglove curves like a spine

vulpine floribunda

purple cups

look nothing like fox gloves

that little bit of dark fur

on the paws

only looks like a back bone

with fluted vertebrae

digitalis in the nectar

every part a poison

I keep it away from my daughter

so tall, it tops the fence

and waves in the wind

paralyzing beauty

she reaches out a hand

to touch the purple

that she can't reach

drawn to taboo

look! two have joined

spines entwined

rapture

stem to stem

Lucy Simpson, Seattle, 2009

Hot Houses

there is a desperation to the florid growth

under the glass in New England

the heat seeps through the floor stones

the tropical flowers penetrate my nostrils

disagreeably, holding me too close to the breast

in the house of insects and arachnids

the obsidian eyes stare all day

transplanted from the part of the world

where the searing sun, that God-eye

etches words in fire

under carapaces

Lucy Simpson, Seattle, 8/20/2009

Spring Communion

I would wrap myself in the pallid peach

of the sundown's skin

the blue somnolence of the mountains

also the deepest purple of evening phlox

veins within the body

lastly a communion of the flames of Augustus tulips

sacred hearts in my ribcage-cupboard

Later when I dream

the moon is semi-circle gibbous

I float up in my variegated shift

into the indigo suburban half-witted light

over the halos of street lamps

I open my mouth like a trout

to take in the moon

which tastes nothing like cheese

more like bread

made from the bone meal

of a deceased god

by his wife

in heaven's wave-tossed galley

L. Simpson, 4/30/2009 Seattle

yarrow grows in this rocky place

palest blue scent of comfort

green feather leaves

crush between my fingers

the Sound whispers the shore

stones – sigh – rock roll -sigh-rock -roll

then the scent is curling

in my nostrils

up to my brain

of spicy yarrow

and shellfish salt

of the water

and the color of evening

smells purple

yes, that is a lovely smell

and the water, those tiny lights

like fireflies or little boats

are drifting

mesmerizing

calling my soul out

to sea

you by my side

a heavy anchor

that moors the boat of me

good wooden keel

from being dashed on the rocks

or floating out

to be bleached by days of sun

you, shore of flesh

country, my country

where my hands have a home

your eyes, my navigation

see how the water washes

you and me

how desperately we need each other

and these waves

to define ourselves

Lucy Simpson

Seattle

6/29/2008