Flowers in a Vase
The dahlias’ unopened buds poke like periscopes above their clownish mass
Green-yellow-red ranks of petals peel back around the hungry centers
Their bent-open invitations frame a pillow of seed
The long stems are drinking straws, the leaves a simple engine of sunlight
I understand their mechanics which will end soon
They droop in the vase now: cut, sterile, a blazon
That slashes the white apartment walls, the leather couch, all the tastefulness
My gaze moves between them and a pad of paper like an art student’s
Their repeated gestures look intricate and foreign
Blatant life, oblivious to its strategies, assaults the eye
After a day their water grows murky as turtles’
Blowsy, blown, they will keep on fading whether I change it or not
A waxy perfume exudes from them
Nothing will complete their purposes here
They have no point to make but they shout
