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| Frangipani: Plumeria rubra |
Frangipani by M. T. C. Cronin
for Jane Sanders
Where should I put my feet
when these flowers which look like the icing
from cakes are lining the street?
How can I stop my eyes
from swelling with their poisonous syrup
after scooping with my hands
their wrong love perfume
to my foolish face?
Truly,
children keep inverting my life -
the seed are 'aerial parts of the plant' -
and though none are mine
they are hurtful and guilty, selfish
as if they belonged inside
my heart
Yet tiredly,
and conscientiously, sadly,
I keep dragging them up before their judges
as if those grandfathers, those trees,
had the ability to understand
what has never been confronted -
when I walk among them
the branches never bend to touch my face
and I, too, step all over
whatever sweetness is beneath me.
