April

Deep maroon trillium blooms holy blood
from a goddess trinity of mottled green and silver leaves

Blue-eyed Mary carpets the forest,
dropping seeds with a wink of each eye like an ovulating virgin

Green spiral tongues unfold into fronds of fern.
Dog-toothed violets bark yellow, bite bluffs.
Bluebells nod lazy in the shade,
seduced by pheromones of wild phlox.

Wild Ginger, blushed and shy,
buries her face in pages of leaves.
Stroke lightly beneath her rosy chin,
coax gently her bend of supple neck
to gaze into deep yellow starry eyes.

Wisteria drips languidly in galaxies of opulent silken tongues
while five planets align in night skies for centennial cosmic reunion.

Spiral gypsies wander the garden in bohemian communion:
Columbine dances in pantomime.
Flax shimmers blue in morning dew.
Oriental poppies pop orange, then

slip off their petals like silk kimonos
to unveil a clitoral star

wet pulse of April
humming with foreplay,
the buzz of nectar,
of flesh and juice,
of insatiable longing,
valleys drinking yet thirsting,
throbbing to swirl
the budding May.

--Diana Tigerlily