Ginger Lilies

In a shady corner of the garden
these shoots with wide cravat-shaped leaves emerge
from the earth. At the tip of each, sudden
ornaments appear as if in a surge 

of the life force flowing there; they emerge
looking at first like a reptile’s tail.
Decorations spring out in a surge,
opening on an unexpected scale. 

The shoots that had looked like a dinosaur’s tail
begin to open and spread a series of ribs
that transform their appearance into that of a scale
model of a tower block, with tips like nibs. 

As they open, these horizontal ribs
could be the framework and floors
of a ten-storey tower, with tips like nibs;
some might compare them to the oars 

of a slave-propelled galley, with blood-drenched floors.
In a short time, the pointed tips turn yellow,
while still spread out like oars.
Who would expect what is to follow 

as the pointed oar-tips turn bright yellow?
They open out, and let down small red flags.
Another transformation is to follow,
unlikely as the contents of a stranger’s shopping bags. 

Having opened, they display little red flags,
as on a pagoda, with one on each level,
hanging down like washing bags
or Chinese offerings to avert the devil. 

Each bloom is like a pagoda, a multi-level
structure with yellow struts and flags hung out
as if meant to placate the devil.
More of them are beginning to sprout, 

these structures with bright bunting hung out,
to light up dark corners of the garden.
As some fade and die, others sprout.
No other growth is quite as sudden.

Subscribe to Quadrant magazine here…