Today's poem is by Robert McNamara
They arrive on my desk, a clear demonstrative bunch
prickly and blood-red, passion's messengers
even without your note three years ago when
dahlias were in bloom making the room stand back,
and the little of everything on the mantel, sweet pea
and freesia, larkspur, bristly mourning bride
rooted in a single thickness of glass stones.
The flowers bell like balls in a Galton board, figures
of chance, the rain stopping, sun glancing off
the gilded slope of a pagoda, its reach released in cloud.
And in the garden, a fat bee humming in the trumpet
of a squash flower fumbles with information like a god.
Copyright © 2007 Robert McNamara All rights reserved
from The Body & The Day
David Robert Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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