Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Amy Beeder

THE DEADLY POPP

THE DEADLY POPP

THE DEADLY POPP

Their odor so powerful that anyone who breathes it
             sleeps within a ring of silken tents and is
innocent as water, as petals on roads of poplars
             with syrup-sky for pale distance, as milkmaids’
pollen skirts among the clover. Cropper & tilled,
             spent sap of the body’s best memory, this —
Sleepyhead, my poppy-milk, O field of deadly flowers:
             I know dark from bright & milk from white
in hawthorne-flower; I know milk from honey.
             Would you have drunk the offered cup
just to sleep forever in the trembling grass?
             Ruination and regret, I would have drunk it
bitter grain & bitter sleep, if you’d lay down.
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THE DEADLY POPP

Their odor so powerful that anyone who breathes it
             sleeps within a ring of silken tents and is
innocent as water, as petals on roads of poplars
             with syrup-sky for pale distance, as milkmaids’
pollen skirts among the clover. Cropper & tilled,
             spent sap of the body’s best memory, this —
Sleepyhead, my poppy-milk, O field of deadly flowers:
             I know dark from bright & milk from white
in hawthorne-flower; I know milk from honey.
             Would you have drunk the offered cup
just to sleep forever in the trembling grass?
             Ruination and regret, I would have drunk it
bitter grain & bitter sleep, if you’d lay down.

THE DEADLY POPP

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère