DYSTOPIAN Poem: Disappointment, by Dana Stamps, II

wilting, if there must be one stem,
greenhouse cultivated,
one root of truth,
will the universe be lonely without us? Sappy, will it yearn
for we great apes
like a flower desires petals, colors ablaze
with new life?
Withering hope is soon plucked
from people’s pots,
no more symbolic buds, sly fragrance, or green thorns.
Astonishing, these stamens
and pistils! Doom
now pollinates our apologies. Soon, no more
crimson roses to say
“Forgive me”
to paramours wronged. The fated,
hellacious sun
is a dying blossom, too.
You and me,
jilted from all memories, unromantically forgotten
by wild loves—
foxglove, oleander, hemlock,
mountain laurel,
and all our poison enemies gone—all
oblivion. My one word,
like a dandelion against my lips to sum up the human bloom,
is not “love,”
for “disappointment” echoes,
then it doesn’t.

Author: poetryfest

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