The flower is black
it looks like a dark purple that has never
seen day
a velvet dress with stamen
the petals are erotic and familiar
with your need and your thirst
you could be a hummingbird
too fast in your urge
and the black flower
may be a hybrid
not entirely natural
its size and grandeur mark it
impossible of nature
you should be outraged
but amazement overtakes protest
after all … apple trees have long been fiddled with
the melding of one with another to cause
grafted sweetness
the same is true of all we deem
natural
they have told you many times
you are not quite earthbound
so why then should it matter?
if beauty is not entirely dictate by natures rule
but the tinkering thumb of man
so like the softness of a diaphanous dress
you shall wear once
on the day of your marriage
when you give your hand
not yet marred by sun
still unclaimed and unburnt
and this day, you are plucked
to be admired afterward
pressed behind glass
a flower blooming
in darkness
One
TheFeatheredSleep 