>> NEXT POEM IN GREENERY or read on for the poem's text
A butterfly on knapweedís tiny song
of yellow echoes heat. The ivy hides
the stone. The bees, delirious, tease the throng
of foxglove throats and work their fluffy sides
against the anthers. Thistles thrust their stiff
cerise and welted leaves, a milky pill
within defiant spines. A mindís a whiff
of hot intent in summerís overspill
of greed, no more: a thousand humming thoughts
of insects, flowers, offices of lust
discharged: so next to them, in summerís courts,
youíre equal. Human brackets drift like dust.
Accept the rough compulsion: swell with heat
like harvest fields and suck on summerís teat.
All my poems on this site are now #FreeForPoets to play with, to write hybrid forms such as glosas, coupling poems, golden shovels, acrostics, centos, and erasures. Full permissions here: #FreeForPoets.