refers to Lotus Lilies, 1888, by Charles Courtney Curran


It is how I still
–this delirium river
a fever of openings, lotus the size
of tea kettles–
See them? Two women floating through
a category of nature?
It’s how I still see them,
the way they disagree in all the chores
they do together–pick the lotus,
hook the lace–in a vessel flabbergasted by
beheaded blossoms,
adrift among the living, hovering tattle tails.
One had the bounty, one had the courage,
one took cover, one left it.
The boat held the refuse.
Nothing they shared was shared:
their hearts refused it.

Amy Holman remarks on discoveries, society, and the news through her poetry and literary essays. Her books include Wrens Fly Through This Opened Window and Wait For Me, I’m Gone. She blogs at her and the group-edited

*Photo courtesy of Roland & Sonja.