The Consummate Flower Girl

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

He wishes for a voice as frail as pink

In fading peonies except in bed

While in her, wants her gestures like a mink

Glove rubbing him until a scarlet red

Explosion shatters him (and not just part

Of him) until he shudders in his flesh

From brain through chest and through his pounding heart

To you know where.  Yet then he wants her fresh

At breakfast table where she serves French toast

With bacon and rare steak — and then at noon

She needs to be like perfect pink beef roast

Upon his tongue when he can make her swoon.

  He wants her petals everywhere within

    Her innards turned to soup and slimy sin.

April 3, 2026