Old as the world,
lithe and smooth,
her skin cool as a python’s,
offers fat tongues of syrup
embedded with her seeds.
She gathers light for the tiny ones
through lobed waxed leaves,
the sheen of stoma,
the enzymatic chlorophyll;
drawing up with her powerful veins
exact minerals for each cell.
How calm, like a lover waiting in the garden,
her pale trunk curving, sinuous,
dripping her raw smell in the carnal air.
She sways while a thousand beating wings
deflower her.