by Raphael Kosek 

Georgia O’Keefe’s An Orchid (MOMA)

For whom do you bloom?
the sweet lace of your petal work
more frail than the flicker
of any star, leaf of bedded lettuce,
your green and yellow vanity
almost succulent. Your quiet
explosion fools us into loving you
at the very moment of your demise
just as our declarations of love begin
to wither as soon as they leave our lips.