Poetry Porch: Poetry


Going to seed
by Marge Piercy

Horseradish flowers: they are scented,
lacy. Nobody ever guesses what they are.
Presently the bok choi is flowering yellow
In rounded clumps. We do not expect

beauty in vegetables going to seed.
As a child, I loved Detroit alleys
in spite of the stenchor perhaps
I had not yet learned which smells

were called bad. The backs of houses,
fences lined with coarse hollyhocks,
plain backed garages, overfull trash cans
offering occasional treasure to a child

hungry for presents and prettiness.
There is a beauty in flowers as they
die, the languid swoon of tulips
dropping their petals like scarves

in a last seven veil dance, red roses
turning bluish exposing the gold
stamens crouched under petals. To us
our own deaths are never so pretty.

Copyright © 2007 by Marge Piercy.