It's Still Life

Of Common Place

I come from a common mind
where the human hand
creates “things”,
we embrace them —
and name them.

Purple lilacs that aren’t lilacs,
they’re buddleia.
Red geraniums that aren’t —
they’re pelargoniums.
Marigolds that aren’t;
they’re tagetes asteraceae,
but a rose by any other name
is never as bright as
Mexican gold.

There’s a flower near the fence
that smells like petrol.
The wood doves love it.
And next to it is a plant that’s
pretty enough to frame,
although it’s dead now.

 
 
MQ 09. ©️ Misky 2019 It’s November Poem a Day month. These are 1st drafts