The Greenhouse

Vandal Poem of the Day: May 19, 2020

 by Rosamund Stanhope

Seeing December’s filicale,
Her nervous woods,
In the red sound of the soil
I plot my trowel,
Looking for round green words.

Plants creep and spire,
Leaves coil and trace
Their potted artifice.
In the red sound of the air
The heart’s forced temperature
Heats the induced flower.

Far from the glass house
Constrained and aphyllous
The leaves have shot their songs
With brown and withered tongues.

And here I plot my trowel
Fearing no less
Such orchid skill,
Such anode emptiness.
from So I Looked Down to CamelotFind more by Rosamund Stanhope at the library
Copyright © 1962 Rosamund Stanhope

Used with the permission of Flood Editions.

Published in Poems Rosamund Stanhope

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