John Rickell

(I November 1931 / York)

The Foxglove


Statuesque, handsome, flowering
in the shade beneath wild crab
tempting as of ages, past
legends steeped in belief,
faith for those who chose.
Do I resist your charms
embrace, kiss those purple lips
seek the nectar as the bee?
Digitalis is your name
my finger deep within your folds
enter the goblet, purple freckles
innocent in that pouting mouth,
bathe in the dangerous air,
unheed paternal warnings
drink deep sweet intoxicants
to calm my racing heart,
indulge myself 'til death
succumb as thousand others?

Turn away from this seductress
to hawthorn buds, spotless white
who, in quiet beauty promise less;
lasting wealth and quiet comfort,
the bread and cheese of childhood.

Submitted: Thursday, February 20, 2014

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