Lilies: Love's Opening

Standing in front of the florist’s,

“I want flowers,” she said, “Lilies.

These’ll open in Ireland; only

Ones that will; like those inked glories

Olga gave to me in Paris.

They bloomed in no time madly –

Showed she loved me without tariff.”

A bunch scented, selected, bought.

“Let’s see how these behave this week.”

She plants them closed in a teapot

Love’s pale green hopes:

                                    Waters, once, twice,

More;

           Thin clitorises awakening,

Pushing showed through the whitening

Hoods darkly – “It begins, she says,

The revelation of life’s glory”–

Unrooted stems still thickening,

Echoes of a mother’s memory

Feeding this second fleeting sprouting

Past death as resurgent daughters.

Moon’s measure passing increases

The opening - the subtle unfolding -

Long lazy days and peat fires burning

Cannot halt. This second birth’s needs

Need just as much as the first – reeds

Dried, petals failing she nurtures,

Gently whispering…

       Then in raptures

This Lazarean bloom explodes,

Each bud, even the last stubborn two,

Of itself incarnate, arched unfolds

Proclaiming a love simple and true,

And I, in wonder, look upon them and her.