May Crowning

Dry earth splits with repulsion

There is a paradox in the crying shame that a dehydrated cell forgets how to soak

It’s a crying shame that any devil can conceive an awakening

I’m comparing swelling to an eviction

There is a paradox to­­­­—

I never wanted an open plot until one was thrust upon me

I watched an orchid blossom beneath the hem of my skirt

And I’ll tell you what

It’s in the petals unfurling that I fall in love

A tendril scrapes me clean

And, I do

I fall in love

I am the chasm

I am the crimson rush we love to forget

I am in love with the building up of an orchid

Until all I want is open plots

Twelve summers can tarnish the bed

And I’ll tell you what

A finger buds slower than an atrium

I water the blooms with a blood-letting

Next summer, there’s always next summer

And still the new orchids weep