A Tin Lily

(as sculpted by Ginet Luebke)

Let material you wrap


around grill bars


or cover dish


take form, grow


to its crunched state


of blossoms thumbed—


a flourishing fluidity


crushed and pressed.
Let it flare into bloom around


an inner rod,    solid,    stiff


with an expression in flex.

The bloom in flight


beckons the honey bee,


but the bee cannot smell


from the glare that rises—


as it flutters above


humming a bloom with no nectar


crunched and crushed


into clover.
Confusion,


mystification,


uncertainty


closer


and closer,


then


Crushed.