Poetry by William F. Buford

Monarda in a bed (6/17/2006)

Monarda darling sit here beside me
with your hat splayed on sideways
make prickly tingles with your castanets
to sparkle all your ringelets

make Lovely bloom as Lovely does
it’s clear you have no scruples
the way you wiggle every vein
to germinate your pupils

leaving us limpid to all these curves of color
piled in the tangles of your hair.

You don't care how you lure to loving, do you
with your deep flame red, more red
than blue is, deeper mauve so glowing shows
the way we’re more light than shadow is.

Don't wait up for me, my darling
Monarda, my poet’s purple passion
will flower only once to love
and die in seasonal fashion.

But still thy silks enfold in majesty
your form freezes hot in tapestry
you reveal to us in your mirror how
we glow purest in thy travesty.