My Corpse Flower

I apologize for the stench

which is like a profuse number of

rotting corpses

laid out before us as we kneel like praying

With our noses

hovering above

to soak in the stink

Ten feet tall it stands

so eerily as if it were

a tower

you would climb on

and I would sit with you

and hold your hands

against your face to save you

from the scent

I have waited

years for this moment

and to have it at last

with you, it

feels like magic

The flower blooms

it opens wide

and you hold your breath

as I exhale mine

And we bathe in the chorus

of the flies and beetles

who came to see

and smell

And as we lay

in the silence of the petals

you ask me

what it feels like to have

something so sinister

And I puzzle you when

I return my response

that not everything feels like something else