Poppies 2

Puckered petals gape like wounds,

Their blood red splattered wide

Across a dull and deadened land

Shorn by invisible shears,

Salt-licked by tongues of wind

Swept off a shrieking sea.

Stricken, swollen, bloated:

The corpse, a copse of brambles

Secreting avaricious sand lice.

The storm has passed;

Stilled now, the shrew.

Against a scrim of copper-plated skies

The still born and the barren stir.

Apocalyptic stains flare to life

Amid the fallen tears of flattened flax;

Bleeding hope stirs for those in need.

Look up! Lift eyes dulled by drudgery,

Risk blooms from humble blood stock. 

Born wild, bred for strength, their roots

Resist, their petals rustle rakishly,

The coquette coquelicot conquers.

Ó  Anaïs Laurent              24/06/10