Wednesday, October 20, 2021

Poem: Poppies

 

Poppies

 

entire species

come and go without a tomb,

tracking cordilleras

that shrink into feeble moraines.

 

supernovas paint millennia of sky,

and yet bullets from outer space

--meteoric in brief bright blaze--

never silence the planet’s breath.

 

And poppies,

Oh the poppies,

 

those eager orange-yellow globes,

eyes of molten dinosaurs,

opened for a moment

to guzzle down millions of missing years--

 

yet frozen in all that,

even as they burn from a friction of eons.

 

millions of years,

yes,

compressed into a brilliant fresh consciousness.

and then it simply explodes--


blooms.






================================

No comments:

Post a Comment