Daffodils for Breakfast
by Ashok Niyogi
Seven yellow daffodils,
With plant-food
In a crystal vase,
I stare
At seven yellow daffodils.
Translucent outer petals
Pale and thinly veined,
Like the fair wrists
Of a Bengali lady
Of pedigree.
The inner petal
Of denser hue,
Tubular, bulging at the base,
Funneling and flaring
Like a horse in a race,
Or maybe an inverted Victorian gown
Bordered with lace.
And then,
The mystery of the pistil,
Pregnant with organized pollen,
Straight and narrow like a shotgun mike.
A tendril inside the pistil,
Smells like room freshener, atomized
For arctic ozone holes.
The refrigerator whirs back to life,
Milk from Costco will expire today,
Breakfast has to be grits.
More About Ashok Niyogi:
Ashok Niyogi was born in Calcutta in
1955. He was
schooled all over
India in Irish Christian Brothers' Schools and
graduated with Honors in
Economics from Presidency College.
You can email Ashok at ashokniyogi@yahoo.com.
Back to Poetry
| 
