Amorous Poem

The calla lilies have arrived, they come
the size of vague hymns if different
in shape, they weren't made of thought, they grew
without fidelity, hence the open
impassable cup and inability to speak,
to move out beyond an ordered length
as partially free persons. Instead a yellow
spike in a white sheaf on a green stalk,
things friends abandoned.

Copyright © 2005 Geoffrey G. O'Brien All rights reserved
from The Modern Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission