Poetry: Poppy


We’ll take a break from The Numbers and share a poem or two. This particular poem was published in a lit mag by the name of Malevolence a few years back.




While covering familiar ground on a luminous night,

I happened upon a poppy which had spun itself

Into a tight little roll to guard against

The influence of moon and stars.


And I stopped to consider this problem,

A problem of will and desire. But I found

No solution, and left myself wishing

That the poppy would spread its full beauty

And give passion to the night.


But it was not in the code. The next morning

I saw the poppy unraveled by the sun,

Predictably pleasing, in fulfillment of all expectation—

But much too obvious; the colors

Washed; the display uncomfortable.


And again I found myself wishing that somehow

The programming could be disrupted for one moment

And that the poppy would silently withdraw from the sun,

To wait in joyful anticipation of the thrill

In surrendering beauty to moonlight.


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