Their ruffled reds and pinks
in continuous bloom,
their fringed petals
thriving in full sun—
are crinolines,
petticoats, and hoopskirts
from long-vanished balls
of whirling orbs,
spun of skin-tight embrace—
oh, how many undergarments,
how much of such excess,
turned so firmly upward
on the stalks’ tightened legs—
and we, breathless:
could we stand?
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