The only evidence of invisible women,

These anatomical vaginas form themselves

From stalks that have grown out of leaves.

Aberrant blooms that have got it all wrong?

x

Or are they the next delicious thing –

More alluring than the vampires of Berlin?

Each one a purple vial to drown a rat in,

Patiently ingesting its remains.  Time-honoured

x

Transformation!  Protein changed to lush vegetation.

Quintessential females, lidded so as to prevent

Premature exit, who float above their dais of moss.

Urns presented in chorus: a choir of harpies

x

Making up an exhibit in a tent more sweat-inducing

Than any rain forest.  Their low-level chandeliers

Actually remind me of the milking machines

That get attached in parlours.  Just as effectively

x

They squeeze the goodness out of their nutrients.

Clearly their role is to further promiscuous metaphor

Rather than resemble any other plant

On show here at a sweltering Hampton Court.

x

First published 2014 in Silent Highway, Anvil Press Poetry – now available through Carcanet