Skip to content →

The Flower from which Forgetfulness

Lie down beneath this tree this is the lying-in

velvety sweet this is the green sky dripping with

trumpets do you hear anything if you hear something

you will not remember it the insect that pricks your

arm flick it away you have much to do here do you

smell something lemony twilight the scent is narcotic

wipe the melody from your mind wipe the lemony

you may feel something but you will forget it don’t

bother to scream just push do what the doctor

who is not here tells you to allow the invisible

nurses have you forgotten them already to touch you

these are the plants of the gods the hell’s bells

the devil’s weed push the baby comes in the grass

someone wraps her in a towel and hands

her to you now ah the trumpets swinging the angels

struggling to keep their lips to the stems, sleepy baby.

from Paper Doll FetusFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2014
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Cynthia Marie Hoffman Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.