I don’t want to be given sunflowers,
nor fields upon myriad fields of daffodil derivatives.
I don’t want to pluck one and compare it superficially
to yet another faded equivalent.
If I did, I’d stare at the blatantly repeating floral patterns,
laden on the threadbare curtains
of my grandparents’ kitchen window—
which I know are older than me.

I want something fresher.
Like a mainsail’s infantile expression,
I want to hurl those curtains wide open, no—
rip them clean off the pole
and see what the world has to offer.
I want more than just a whisper here,
an echo there; embraces, caresses.
I want daring—
to never settle for anything less
than dust that dances raucous
in a moonlit summer zephyr.

I don’t want to see sunflowers ever again.
I want to 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 them—
plunge my teeth into them
or even vice versa.
I want them to eviscerate me
as if I were some unsuspecting antelope,
wandered weary into the lion’s den.
I want the marbling dark meat of a crimson rosebud;
the sinewy splitting tendon on a fleshy rhododendron.
I want the drama of unreliquishing meadows,
drenched in the outpouring of Heaven’s passion—
hailstones clenched into a fist,
pummelling the unruly Earth into submission.

So please don’t give me purely niceties; rose-tinted beauty—
give me wilderness that impresses like a knife.
Leave the wilted sunflowers, they’ve overdone their duty—
finally, give me something else—I beg you, give me life.

© Joseph Chin
#poetry #nature #raw #wild #drama #satire #life