Tulips
There are tulips on the table,
the frilly on the top type,
a shade of red that stretches toward vermillion.
Maybe there is mercury in the silky petals,
the stamens inky powder smudged
mascara-after-tears into the impossible red.
The stalks are bent after a week in water
crazy, snakelike, green curves,
and yet, each red cup is whole.
Curious that no petals have fallen yet.
What a strange feeling when I pressed close!
Their colour is more opaque each passing day,
but each tulip’s black center
still lifts toward the missing sky.
