Cobra Lily

Michael Spring

near the bog
we stand above the snake-like presence
of cobra lilies

I place my finger
on a leathery leaf
that secretes
a sexual slip of syrup
for insects

inside the body of the plant
inside its membranous head
two flies have climbed in
and now twitch, intoxicated
in a pool of liquid

if this cobra lily
represents our love

then the insects trapped inside
are last night’s erotic
words and heavy sighs
transformed into flesh

their bodies
slowly absorbed
into the plant
 

 

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