Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, JEALOUSY, by WINIFIELD WELLS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

JEALOUSY, by                    
First Line: What? Did my spotted lily startle you?
Last Line: I plucked that lily twenty years ago.
Subject(s): Flowers; Jealousy


What? Did my spotted lily startle you?
Sorry -- I never thought to warn. It's true
You come upon it rather suddenly
Out of that vacant, dingy hall. You see
I've lived with it and tended it so long,
I never seem to realize how strong
And harsh its colors are. In this back room
They fairly snarl and crackle through the gloon
Well, yes, a little sickish I admit.
I'll open up the window for a bit
And let a gust of lilacs in -- There, now,
You watch him in the field while I tell how
I came to find it first......
I guess you know
How much he likes to be alone, to go
Forever wand'ring off across the hill,
Or mooning 'round the ruins of the mill,
Or somewhere, anywhere it seems to be,
So long as he can get away from me.
But once -- he was just opening the door --
I felt I couldn't bear it any more!
I snatched his hat and cried, "What right have you
Always to leave me so? I'm going too!"
And went.
There was a blurring kind of rain,
That soaked the world up in a slow, grey stain;
And mist like phlegm -- You couldn't hear a sound
On any side, except the one the ground
Made, ogreishly sucking at our shoes.
I knew that low road was the one he'd choose
To plague me! So I led, and set a pace
Across the marsh that fairly made him race --
Although for all of road or roof or tree,
We might as well have stumbled undersea.
No wonder I stopped short and screamed out loud,
When that thing jabbed its hot fangs through the cloud
Around our feet!
"It's just a flower," he said,
"A happy, lonely lily, warm and red."

I couldn't stand the way he kept so mild,
And spoke as if I were a fool or child.
"Pick it!" I cried, "If red can rise in mud,
And warmth in mist, there's hope for flesh and blood!"
He stared beyond the fog......
"Oh let it stay,
A wild thing fades if you take it away."
I knew then what my man was thinking of,
His other wife -- that Gypsy -- his first love --
And growing sentimental with his past,
As if in spite of death, she were his last.
So I stooped down and clutched it in my hand,
Gasping as if it were a burning brand,
And tore it up, leaves, blossom, roots and all!
He never said a word, but straight and tall
Stalked slowly off, and like an oily screen,
The grey, unrolling film slid in between.
I waited 'til his footsteps in the mire
Smeared over too.
I hid my flower of fire
Beneath my coat, but even then it shone
Enough to light the long way home alone.
He said that it would fade. I made it thrive.
Close to the window pane it seemed alive
As her own face that used to hover there,
With eyes as black as dungeons under hair
Tawny and wild and bound with red. For hours
She'd watch that curve of road between the flowers.
She'd watch, but nothing came until the day
The hearse drove up to carry her away.
I liked my lily for awhile, but now
It's bloated, glow'ring, terrible -- Somehow
It lived so easily, it grew too well.
I often fear it and the bloody spell
It seems to cast. Even the walls and floors
Are mottled with its shadow. Lock the doors
And blind the windows but I still can see
The flicker of its poison burn towards me.
And then that odor -- almost as if slime
Could ooze along the air. Many a time
Those sluggish sweetnesses uncoil and creep
Upstairs to slink into my very sleep......
I guess you're right -- fancies like these are bad,
And apt to make folks think you're kind of mad.
But they're familiar ones to me, you know --
I plucked that lily twenty years ago.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net