
grow so north
they last a month, six weeks at most.
Some others,
named for the fields they look like,
last longer, smaller.

onion or bell- wort, just cut
this morning and standing open in tapwater in the kitchen,
will close with the sun.

They are fresh an hour ago,
like sliced lemons,
with the whole day ahead of them.
They could be common mayflower lilies of the valley,

long-stemmed as pasture roses, belled out over the vase--
or maybe Solomon's seal, the petals
ranged in small toy pairs

They could be anonymous as weeds.
They are, in fact,
the several names of the same thing,
lilies of the field, butter-and-eggs,

and have
"the look of flowers that are looked at,"
rooted as they are in water,
glass, and air.
I remember the summer
I picked everything,

singled them out in jars
with a name attached. And when they had dried as stubborn
as paper I put them on pages and named them again.
They were all lilies, even the hyacinth,

I picked it, kept it in the book for years
before I knew who she was,
her face lily-white, kissed and dry and cold.
Stanley Plumly
From Summer Celestial by Stanley Plumly.
Copyright © 1983 by Stanley Plumly.
From Summer Celestial by Stanley Plumly.
Copyright © 1983 by Stanley Plumly.



A very up to date look!
ReplyDeleteoh that's an interesting comment, sabine. yes, somehow they are so simple that most of them could be from any time.
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