once I was half flower, half self
- Alice Oswald, "Narcissus"
I am half flower, half self; I grow a spathe
to wrap you in a perfumed hood; my roots
spread in your skin, my cells pulse xylem
through your veins. You seek me like a bee,
you bumble the ferment of my smell, butt
at the pollen-stippled core, where spheres
encrusted with soft things wait to latch
onto your limbs. I hold you, ripened, trap
your cries like lacewings in my hair. Into
my mouth falls night-fruit, torn apart, it tastes
of you, such tender inflorescence. Now you
are the flower, and I the bee find I cannot
lift my head, I lap the nectar at your gist,
and drown as your petals close.