Monday, July 11, 2005

The monarch touches

The monarch touches
summer iris in passing.

I cannot name the arc of purple flowers,
springs from an uncombed bush –
Had I noticed, even once, I could have asked
the Asian tenants,
Brazilian gardener,
ex-ferry boat captain
who sells apartments to emerging technologists –
Had I touched down even once
I would have had the sense of a butterfly,
perhaps the memory of a worker bee,
I would have the taste of pollen on my palate.

The arc of purple springs
from uncombed bush –
monarch touches iris.

3 comments:

Erin said...

There is an understated sensuality in this that's really beautifully effective.

Anonymous said...

Nice poem--

Crispus Litvak said...

The monarch touches
summer iris in passing. (revised)

I cannot name purple flowers,
from an uncombed bush –

Had I noticed, even once, I could have asked
the Asian tenants,
Brazilian gardener,
the ex-ferry boat captain who sells
apartments to emerging technologists –

Had I touched down even once
with the sense of a butterfly,
the memory of a worker bee,
I would taste the pollen
on my palate.

The arc of purple
springs from uncombed bush –
monarch touches iris.