Red dawn

Red dawn. 
First rays of timid sun
Color the sky
And the first flower in my garden,
The flower of hatred,
Opens its petals. 

*

I hate. 

A whole flock
Of tender fleurs du mal
(Flowers of evil)
Blossom in my garden. 
They are bright red,
The angry feverish red
  Of hot pokers
Of liquid steel
Of lava floating down the slope
Of a volcano. 

An ejaculation of hatred.

Come, take them all
Grab a bunch,
A fistful,
Pick the garden clean
With your gentle hands.
They are all yours. 

But hatred, hatred’s mine: 
A battlefield of wild red poppies. 

*

You are so kind.
Your soft hands
Touch
The lily of my venom.
Your gentle fingers
Caress
Each petal
With unmeasured tenderness. 
They take hold
Of white meaty flesh
Of obedient flowers
That will ill-smell
In a day or two
Thrown over someone’s grave
You daintily
Pick,
Pluck,
Tear them,
One by one,
Petal by petal,
In an orgy of destruction
You call love. 

*

Petals fall:
White droplets
On wet slimy moss
Oozing morning mist. 

You smile
As the flowers silently scream. 

You listen,
You sigh,
You are satisfied. 

You are so kind.

*

You plucked them all: 
Dahlias, orchids, chrysanthemums…
You picked the garden clean
You thought I was at peace.

But you have overlooked
The most beautiful of them all –
The hyacinth of hate.