Loosely leaning down, around—
a lemon carousel.
The nearest one is peering through a lone
triangular eye at me.
(Does foxglove bloom for the bee?)
Through the manzanilla glass of my own green eyes
these twenty-two yellows are light; this close-up cup,
The miracle, not only spring—so
many things beginning.
Blue vase, bent stems; petals, pale and evasive.
Not a scent.
Questions and Answers
What inspired “Tulips”?
This is a lyric; that is, a personal poem, in which I both reveal and shield myself through tulips. Flora and fauna are pervasive sources of tropes in my poetry; they allow me to “say it slant.”