De Natura Primrose

Dangerous,

is a scent 

spreading deep

takes breath,

away

in silence.

Her perfume,

is an insane

mystery.

Man feels himself,

wanting more

than smell—

the need

to taste,

taste.

Her petals

in his mouth,

pulling loose.

He plucks her

off,

facing her face,

just wilted from fusion.

Coming,

only at night

the full moon.

She,

is tense—is 

absent assurance,

what the event 

means.

He looks at,

thinks by her

in morning.

Dawn,

is the violence of 

her beauty

made whole

in the bright light.

So kind to her,

lying surrounded by world.

Sleeping beauty,

is unconcerned 

in silence

how it sounds

falling away.