The Pink of Gentle Hermione and White of John Paul II
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The lodger pauses, as he leaves, to gaze
At blossoms in the border at the front —
The blooms of roses, saintlike pink — appraise
Serge Nosicov
Them as a Monday man might dare confront
Such sacredness, such pilgrim pink, and try
To store it up inside him as he goes
To work at hauling heavy tiles up high
To sixth floor building work. The workman knows
He needs some floral miracle to get
Him through his day. A perfect bloom
Of white will bless his aching muscle sweat
And carry him through Monday’s ruthless doom.
The pious pink, soft petal white in eyes
May help him slightly with his stumbling thighs.
~ Phillip Whidden