Flirtation

After all, there’s no need

to say anything

at first.  An orange, peeled

and quartered, flares

like a tulip on a Wedgwood plate.

Anything can happen.

Outside the sun

has rolled up her rugs

and night strewn salt

across the sky.  My heart

is humming a tune

I haven’t heard in years!

Quiet’s cool flesh—

let’s sniff and eat it.

There are ways to make of the moment

a topiary

so the pleasure’s in

walking through.

—Rita Dove