By: Linda M Crate

you are a lotus
clinging
to the water some desperate
hymn of color that
copies
some forgotten symphony of sunset
insisting that you’re original,
and you can fool
some people sometimes;
but i’m too clever to fall for that—
i know full well you’re
lying,
and you resent me for it
push me away
as if in forgetting me you can silence
my words
it’s not true i’ll tell the world what a fraud
you truly are;
and when you think it can get no worse,
sycophant,
i’ll tear away all your petals in a furious fire
that sets all the rivers of you ablaze—
when all this happens then
you will see that i
am phoenix born and i do have that temper
i always warned you about.