Labor as a Tulip
Labor as a tulip
arrays its flame, nu
form, as the bulb-star,
interred, divines its ore
surging the gulf
rooting it into
appalled memento
pulsing will.
Leaf-blades score the heap.
Other wounds—penetralia—
other worlds, cries, far.
Filaments, simples
emblazoning the rei,
rebus of grief.
Unslumbering terra
premising her kill.
Copyright @ 2014 by Karen Volkman. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on June 10, 2014.
"This poem looks at the uncanniness of spring rebirth, the violence inside the explosive beauty, the hurt in the will to break from dormancy. All of which relates to poetic making, the essential rupture involved in bringing intuition into form, leaving a trace of its injured origin."
—Karen Volkman
Karen Volkman
Karen Volkman, author of Whereso (BOA Editions, 2016), is the recipient of the James Laughlin Award, given by the Academy of American Poets, and the Iowa Poetry Prize.