An Iris


Bright sun,

a deep, velvet purple iris blossom on its high stalk,

springs is over.

Tulip stalks are empty;

soft colored petals have curled wide,

folded brown.


My heroes all came from comic books,

the bad guys also.

Innocence held newsprint colors:

red, yellow, blue,

not green of good

and green of evil.


Sweat tastes of salt,

heat of day without

water, or time, to wash it away.

It stings in cuts.

The pain reminds me

of the pastel flesh beneath.


first published in Living With a Stranger: self portrait, 1993.


About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

2 responses to “An Iris”

  1. yassy says :

    Good one.


  2. johnsmithiiimxiii says :

    Thanks Yassy! Survive the day!


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