Poppies
By Sandra McPherson
Orange is the single-hearted color. I remember
How I found them in a vein beside the railroad,
A bumble-bee fumbling for a foothold
While the poppies' petals flagged beneath his boot.
I brought three poppies home and two buds still sheathed.
I amputated them above the root. They lived on artlessly
Beside the window for a while, blazing orange, bearing me
No malice. Each four-fanned surface opened
To the light. They were bright as any orange grove.
I watched them day and night stretch open and tuck shut
With no roots to grip, like laboratory frogs' legs twitching
Or like red beheaded hens still hopping on sheer nerves.
On the third afternoon one bud tore off its green glove
And burst out brazen as Baby New Year.
Two other poppies dropped their petals, leaving four
Scribbly yellow streamers on a purple-brimmed and green
Conical cadaver like a New Year's hat.
I'd meant to celebrate with them, but they seemed
So suddenly tired, these aging ladies in crocheted
Shawl leaves. They'd once been golden as the streets
Of heaven, now they were as hollow.
They couldn't pull together for a last good-bye.
I had outlived them and had only their letters to read,
Fallen around the vase, saying they were sorry.
--------
Went to Theodore Roosevelt Island with my in-laws yesterday. It was hot in the sun but gorgeous in the shade, with baby ducks and salamanders and various interesting insects all around, and I took some neat photos that I will endeavor to resize and post later. Then we came home so son number two could go to soccer practice and I finished up my three articles and did some major overhauling of one of my web sites.
Moon Curse, my entry in the Remus/Sirius Fuh-Q-Fest, has been posted. It's in answer to challenge #28, "Remus is cured," and it's a genre of fic I rarely read and generally can't stand. My partner in crime
Gacked from
what's your inner flower?
[c] sugardew
No comments:
Post a Comment