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,
a flood.
The miracle, not only spring—so
many things beginning.
But sexlessness
and rest.
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.”
This poem “Tulips” originally appeared in Canadian Literature 180 (Spring 2004): 29.
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