the crisp, numb ground
crunches below a pair of designer slippers
approaching a glass greenhouse
with the creak of the door
cautious eyes trail from within
the configuration of cultivation
beneath an archway of wisteria
the humid air grows thicker
as tempting tongues
snap at each other
soon they begin to drip
an aloe-like secretion
better at repairing wounds than any other salve
before they collide spirited as a venus fly trap
snaring its unsuspecting prey
cheeks flush as flourished snapdragons’
clothes wilt away
bodies burst sudden and fragrant
as moonflowers
leaving only a milky sap along the pathway
that tomorrow’s groundskeeper will suspect as sow thistle