The Gorgeous Flowers’ Stamens are Sexual Organs

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

I used to breathe as if I had a bloom

Between my teeth, an orchid made of dawn,

A daybreak we have never seen, no doom

In light.  Surreal, the blossom Dalí drawn,

Controlled my nightmares down my throat to lungs.

The orange blossoms of my youth were not

Involved, nor Holy Spirit incensed tongues

From thurible where they were swinging, hot

With promises that Christ has never filled,

And hot with threats the Father God dispersed

In all directions, threats that He distilled,

The threats that holy God Himself makes worst.

  In childhood and in love the air wraps wreathed

    In dreams held back in orchid petals teethed.

© Phillip Whidden