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The Flower And The Gander

A being waiting for life
To come and open like flowers
Reveal their essence when approached
Yet closed like virgins awaiting
The one fine gentleman who asks
For a dance

One day he finally comes to her
With shining boutonniere abloom
Sighing like he'd ne'r seen beauty
Smiling to find her all alone
He plucks her, and she's delighted
He is unentranced

She takes his gander-neck arm in hers
Its hungry beak nibbles her over
She thinks this lechery is kisses
She hears his squawking lust as truth
He takes her home with his deception
Dark romance

He peels her petals all away
Such trust and love she's given him
He devours her soul's nectar
He honks in satisfied conquest
She wonders, has she just made love
Or been lanced

She knows now 'fore he's crossed the room
As she refolds her delicate blooms
She calls him with her new poisoned voice
"It's night, let me help you on your way
The moon's been waning for several days"
She's darkly enhanced

The gander takes the flower's hand
She leads him to a work undone
Her father dug a new basement here
She feigns a step, and he follows
"Goodnight, man with no soul or heart ...
Here you may dance"

Learn more about this author, Kristi Thrush.
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