An iconic silhouette
panniered
and conically corseted
court dresses
of exquisite silk
and gentle patterns;
two ladies that have stolen away
into the early morning mist.
Powdered white faces
white as china
soft as cream
under fashionable wigs
dusted with flour
worn high in a roll
with rouge lips
carefully crafted
to convey
just the proper amount
of sensuality;
their warm hands had clasped
and their eyes had met
with such force
that words had been an excess.
They had thought the flowers
so beautiful
pink roses, scented with delirium
amaryllis, sweet enough to eat
cherry blossoms in full bloom
and irises, potent with message,
a gift of substantial meaning
from one tender heart
to another.
They had thought the flowers
so beautiful, that is
until the bugs had begun
to creep out
buzzing flies with bulbous eyes
and sticky tongues
that flit out licking everything,
droning bees that bobbled about
and grew angry quickly
when you swiped at them,
whining mosquitoes
that left just a drop of blood
on your skin
after they had pierced it,
and creepy crawling things
long and slender
with a thousand legs
each touch a prick
as they scurried up your arm
and onto your back
where they paused to listen
to the growing din
of insect noise,
a murmuring that said
to every organism
rhythm, form, and duration
varied expressions of thriving life
formed around
limits of an inward order
phantoms breaking free
from last year’s rain.
– matt at shadow of iris
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[Inspired by the work of Ray Caesar.]
