A Flower on my desk
By Leonard Fong Roka
Since that February
The flower was there...next to me
In form, it was there
It was there, all tru seasons...it was there
Silent and chaste.
Perfect and violet, it stood
Calm and charming it withered by noon
To kill my lamp in the bloom of morning
As she paraded in gaits so angelic
To a lost Kawas kindred.
I dream of those tangles
Where we could hide across Bougainville
In the rugged and virginity
Of Panguna
And not those mosquito plains for the Solomons
But, I lament that it knew
That I was lost
Before her spells.
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