CORNFLOWER, ERGOT, POPPY Poem by Elke Erb
CORNFLOWER, ERGOT, POPPY
My love, you heard, you hear
them, your brothers, brethren, the seven
swans, you heard, hear their feathers -
voices in the sky -
Wrists whistling
blessing the herdess.
My love, I thought, for me there grew
no brothers in the field, brothers in the field.
Why did I scorn to greet the corn?
Stiff as a rod.
Stones, roused, eying
knights, charmed to life, still play
the violin on broken vows.
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2/22/2026 4:00:52 AM # 1.0.0
