In the garden, in the midst of roses in bloom
The Cycas rising, bamboo curling
And a Kandyan Dancer orchid
Holding the cynosure with her
Canary yellow labellum.
It seems yellow always takes
Center stage, like the sun in all her splendor
Moon in all her perfection
And an orchid reminding us
Of the dancers on the streets that make
Spiraling jumps, holding stakes of fire
In their mouths.
We are all yellow to some degree.
Jaundiced by the bile of sorrow
Leaking from a ductus heart
Of how we burn the nagging sun
During the day and take solace in the moon.
And a little corolla on our lips
That betrays the heart – We smile
When we don’t want to – Sorrow swirls
That underscore how fake we are
How we grease our teeth with toothpaste
To glow from ear to ear
We are all baleen whales in our dreams, little krill in our heart
And hope, like krill, swimming around in the ocean
Searching for the whale’s mouth.
To be one with Jonah’s fate.