Let the flowers make a journey <br />on Monday so that I can see <br />ten daisies in a blue vase <br />with perhaps one red ant <br />crawling to the gold center. <br />A bit of the field on my table, <br />close to the worms <br />who struggle blinding, <br />moving deep into their slime, <br />moving deep into God's abdomen, <br />moving like oil through water, <br />sliding through the good brown. <br />The daisies grow wild <br />like popcorn. <br />They are God's promise to the field. <br />How happy I am, daisies, to love you. <br />How happy you are to be loved <br />and found magical, like a secret <br />from the sluggish field. <br />If all the world picked daisies <br />wars would end, the common cold would stop, <br />unemployment would end, the monetary market <br />would hold steady and no money would float. <br />Listen world. <br />if you'd just take the time to pick <br />the white flowers, the penny heart, <br />all would be well. <br />They are so unexpected. <br />They are as good as salt. <br />If someone had brought them <br />to van Gogh's room daily <br />his ear would have stayed on. <br />I would like to think that no one would die anymore <br />if we all believed in daisies <br />but the worms know better, don't they? <br />They slide into the ear of a corpse <br />and listen to his great sigh.<br /><br />Anne Sexton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fury-of-flowers-and-worms/
