Poetry for Horace Bristol’s Easter lilies
It’s Easter time
and the calla lilies
are in full swirl
some tightly green
others full blown cream
orange corncobs
tucked inside
revealed to
sun rain insects
snow white pollen erupts across gold
tempts small fingers to disassemble
In their prime
they are cut down
not called Easter lilies for nothing
they are grown to be gathered
sold displayed to the adoring
adorning churches homes
come Easter Sunday
their dazzling pure white
redeeming souls
Fresh lilies become
old papery tissues
discarded
no longer loved appreciated
prayed to
they are scorned trashed
dumped unceremoniously
Oh green leaves oh sensuous tubes
let your flesh
be revealed to me
I will let you into my
home
I will place you carefully
in water
on the table I will pay
my homage to you nightly
Only you Horace Bristol did them justice
when you found them discarded
lilies still glowing
post church post embrace
the trash can a condom
protecting us from the
frivolous
fecundity
of spring
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For more of my poetry, please check out my new collection 3:15 experiment poetry Middle of the Night Poems from Daughter to Mother :: Mother to Son (en theos press 2011). Read sample poems here. Read a review by Robert Peake here.
art predator 
How sweet…
Glad you liked it Jo! Thanks for stopping by! Your lily with its deep orange “corn” is lovely, BTW!