Black Iris, by Steven Goff
On aching stems, pearling beads at each petal's end
are a dirt mound's clout manifest. That this image
casts flitting shade in high esteem of its own bloom
The iris unfurls, its petals spread. Fanning outward
like velvet cloth,
the flower's newfound shape reveals strong purples
dotting intimations in deep red.
Paint drips, how could it not? Drawing from fertile
dirt, the flower is not the least bit delicate.
Sweat at play on the petal's fronds yet lingers along
each bristle's tip.
An eye enlightened to the iris, paint is a shut eyelid
that masks the whiteness of the canvas.
The flower reflects a semblance of the painter's self,
it harbors an ineffable sense of emptiness
that is teased out by the graceful ebb of petals being
Steven Goff is a poet, playwright, and visual artist living in Philadelphia, PA who writes personal poems indicative of city life in the tri-state area as well as ekphrastic and literary leaning poetry. A recent graduate of Drexel University, his works have appeared in such publications as The 33rd and Pendora Magazine.
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