Improv 1, Post 8, Week 11

Narcissus incomparabilis
Jake York

Lean down, lean down
while the light's abducted,
its last skirts caught
then torn through the trees.
Keep your own eye still
so no one catches you.
When it's gone, it's everywhere--
air a memory of light,
incident turned ambient,
and it never takes long
for this nacre to grow
over each absence or intruder
and become the world.
Lean down now,
creel of starlight and mood,
and reflect again
your inherited light.
World may ripple--
pearl scale, pebble, bone--
behind all memory,
may ghost you, stranger,
where you don't belong.
But lean down now,
as memory hardens
its incomparable light.
Don't let the sun
set on you again.


Caladium bicolor
Casey LaRue

Lie to me, lie to me
while your shape's endearing
like someone's hand reaching
for their own sagging heart.
Keep your leaves to yourself,
your own hand reaching for your heart.
When you're here, you spread like paint,
your deceptive name
brushing my skin,
and it never takes long
for someone to know they've touched you,
all your toxic parts
sitting undisturbed
while my cells are on fire.
Lie to me now,
fox and rabbit leaf,
and let your endearing shapes
lure someone else.
Georgia will turn redder
as the cooling clay soothes the skin,
but lie to me now,
as beauty ignites curiosity,
stretching my fingers to you again.