Whore Flowers

Whore Flowers

by Alicia

O, my dear

Flower in the doorway

What color might you be

Today?

Dare I cross your street

To beat the heat

In the cool and quiet?

Yes, I know why it

Changes

from bright scarlet to

pure white - your flower,

Child of the night.

Waiting, your fingers brush

The rough clay of your doorway

The bud in your hair

Burning with the sun,

My face flushed

Crimson

My blood, alight

And you,

Slowly

Turn my way,

Eyes ignite -

Amber and sage.

Today,

Today, I’ll come your way.