Orange Honeysuckle
/Is it not humiliating
the ways imagination makes fools of us?
Why refuse to confess it?
There can be no absolution, will be no forgiveness
while humid nights reek of this . . .
of this sickeningly sweet perfume.
I detest it, the way I abhor the voracious green larvae
of the hawk moth, the way I hate the pageantry of workaday
lies. Nothing happened means nothing.
Like this invasive species that does not solely rely
on sexual propagation, Intention sniffing about for Opportunity
takes root wherever the ground is easy. Choose
those excuses with care lest they become your future.
Only cowards blame nature. Between us, must we accept
the inevitable stench of this suffocating air?
By Shelly Norris
From: United States
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