The following poem is in the collection, My Favorite Plant. I thought it was beautiful. I apoplogize now if I’m breaking 1001 copyright laws.
Bearded Irises-Henri Cole
I was a stranger and you welcomed me.
I thought: he will not stand for the stench
of my body.
But truth is a bright needle pulling an ugly thread
and he opened his arms to take me in.
I thought: I love this ordinary man who is made
of the best intentions.
I thought: here’s a man who will keep his promise.
In the bars, I was a doomed and lovely thing,
like a flower doomed by frost,
but now I have been redeemed.
I was thirsty and you gave me your glass.
I thought: he will be disgusted seeing wine
run into my open mouth, making my teeth shiver.
But it was dusk and the somber blue sky
began melting like an iris,
abstracting him into its fading light.
I was hungry and you gave me meat.
Eating vigorously with my hands,
I thought: I am like a bearded iris,
my ego unsubjugated.
I demand and get a bed of my own,
from which the whole world of the Not-Me
seems fatal and ridiculous.
I was naked and you clothed me.
I thought: he’ll not let me wear his handsome
red coat.
To different men come different blessings.
This was a coat worthy of Cocteau.
But you made me put it on.
I thought: now I am like a red boat,
blazing on a lake.
I was sick and you comforted me.
How I awaited your visits, as a caged dog
awaits liberation.
your face-sculpted with little crow’s-feet,
the mark of a man with an interior life–
healing me like the sun.
If I were in prison you would defend me.
I would think: one day soon I’ll be home again.
I would think: how precious silver is
stolen from a man with a great estate,
a man I hate!
And when I die, you will bury me.
easing my corpse into the sepulcher,
as a rotting iris is plunged into compost.
A bare bulb at the center of the vault
will illuminate your face,
and I will think: nothing that comes after
could be as good as what came before.