A vile filled with
(And some other inactive ingredients)
(Oil noticeably absent in this scenario)
An ordinary vase,
For some flowering plant to sprout.
Bought not from
A roadside boutique,
That would emphasize an affinity for both
But instead from
A crowded grocery store
That plays music that
Somehow specializes in both,
Stored on cold metal shelves,
Trapped in tanks,
Living on shelves,
Swimming in such bright lights,
Breathing in the luminescence,
Instead of the water.
But the smell,
From this treacherous trap,
Clinging to the near-by counter-tops,
That are already littered with crumbs from
A recently consumed bagel.
(Cockroaches already having fled the scene, once the lights became apparent)
Inviting all other insects from all around to dance here,
Even the congregation of reverent mantes attends,
Blessing the ceremony
They are not exempt, though.
They too will dance their final dance.
And pray their final prayers.
For a full months time,
It will become an almost permanent fixture.
An acrylic mausoleum.
Getting washed for free by
Very real lemon juice.
So to retain it’s shine,
It’s effervescent splendor.
In addition to being the recipient
Of many misplaced sun-beams,
Through fragmented kitchen windows,
Obviously meant for other commodities.
More like a movie -star every day.
Looking more and more,
Like a statue,
And as idle idols will insist,
A persuasion will ensue.
(Alpha & Omega)
Will gather at the base
Of the eventual sarcophagus.
Gradually dissolving the line
Pet and pest,
And exponentially increasing
The ubiquitous appeal of the trap every day.
Even to the throng of
Spiders that spin webs like wizards,
Because even these casual ingredients,
(Spiders also included)
So long, as
The disingenuous trap remains,
Presiding over the lawless kitchen,
(Like a proud sheriff.
Of a tumble-weed town.)
Steadily infecting it with the stench of
(And vinegar, still)
Cruel wax-paper replacement,
(With no relation to the sticky-note)
And cant be the next dignitary to take the stage.
The wax paper doesn’t discriminate
(Or know the difference)
Then digesting both
Would become a matter of simple circumstance.
Reducing them to a perpetual state of visceral fluidity.
Like the prehistoric tar-pits,
That are the obvious predecessors.
The original museums.