Orchids
On the narrow lane I walk a woman fair has taken
to jog, she has red fingernails, a slender bum and
her tits don’t move under her t. shirt, I’m sure it
was her who took the rare orchids that grew on
the verge. In a shop I saw orchids made of some
stuff unknown to me, they looked beautiful and
were infused with a pleasant aroma, wouldn’t you
think she could have bought one of those?
If you throw artificial flowers on a compost heap
they refuse to be mulch, hang around year after
looking new after rain but everyone knows they
are ancient and thinking you ought to rinse them
under the tap and put them in the back window sill.
The woman who runs on my lane has had a face-
lift forever she will look middle aged while we all
know she is really very old
AucklandPoetry.com presents Poet Resident JAN OSKAR HANSEN on http://OSKAR.AUCKLANDPOETRY.COM
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
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