Vetchling (*)
your tender tendrils holding tight
to the middle of the keel;
your style's so dilated,
you can't stay upright.
Beavertail-grass ~<>
Pale blue hairs fringe
your three chins.
Nuzzle the wooded slopes
of my inner coast.
Alicia (*)
prefers the dry piney banks.
Your men are so showy,
brandishing stamens freely —
but your gals lack petals.
Snake-lily ~<>
You twine, then droop,
curving upwards after your flower.
Willa Cather was right;
behind every flower, there's a serpent's head.
Mitella (*)
of the loamy low spots —
a snowflake on the forest floor;
I cool my flaming cheeks against you
mid-tryst.
Solomon's-seal ~<>
Bare stems
and leafy overhead —
flowers nod in your direction.
No wonder; you're a polygonad!
Sweet Pitcher-plant (*)
with supercilious hood
bounding o'er the boggy fen —
we all smell violets when
someone pinches your slender throat.
Twisted stalk ~<>
the hanging man —
so not downy to the touch.
You like it where it's moist
but you're so bent.
Soap-plant (*)
Delicate leaves rising from a coated bulb.
Early settlers washed their hair with you
in mountain streams
once upon a time.
Devil's-bit ~<>
Hold aloft your French tickler;
raise it high above your lance-like leaves.
Bifurcation necessitates that your ladies,
Blazing-stars, reside apart from you.
Blue-dicks ~<>
I see you standing atop the mesa.
Extremely short pedicels
make it hard for you to compete;
hence your name.
Pickerelweed ~<>
You stout dandy —
lucky you with your two-lipped flowers!
Fresh water ponds are so
accommodating.
Rain-lily (*)
My night blooming courtesan —
your sweet scent fills my dreaming bed,
so widespread,
you cover me entire.
Ram's-head ~<>
Stamens and pistil unite in a column
within your heart.
Your inflated pouch likes it where it's damp.
Why am I not surprised?
Ladies-tresses (*)
Your spiraling spike
carries flowers white,
though sometimes tinted, and even
marked. Distribute freely.
Pipewort ~<>
What wooly whiskered mischief
do you wreak now —
your basal tufts mixing with White-buttons
in low marshes?
Common Cat-tail ~<>
Shed your fluffy tips
in the shallows;
I'm only interested in your
velvet sausages.
Cleomella obtusifolia (*)
is sunshiny yellow in color
and always sports lucky cloveresque leaves,
yet men call her "Stinkweed of the Mojave";
now tell me, does that seem fair?
Jackass clover ~<>
You're one highly variable guy
and easily confused
with Cleomella.
Now isn't that ironic?
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