The tulips stayed beautiful into May,
barely fell open into their usual
blousiness before losing
their heads altogether.
Maybe a hungry, lost deer
harvested their rainbow flavors–
lemony sunshine, delicate peach,
sweet deep purple, meatiness
of arterial red, plain vanilla.
Not a petal remains, stems
still upright but stripped clean.
Or maybe Alice’s Queen of Hearts
showed up demanding, screaming
“Off with their heads” to goons
standing by and taken in
by her scariness, her call
to do violence, by assurances
that her court alone wields power.
The lilacs, normally in bloom now,
are making a frail show of it,
barely scenting the air
fearful that their voices
will not register loud enough
to make the necessary difference.
But this spring wasn’t the blooms’
first rodeo and as perennials
their constitution
all but promises
how next year will witness
their showy bronco bounce-back.
originally published on Portside
