Rose Polenzani

Molly's Lily

Rose Polenzani


Molly, you've got to 
put your saddle on tight.
You've a red, red runner 
for your final flight.
You're my only sister, 
but a price is a price,
and he's not going lower 
than my sister's life.

Would that I may go with you, 
but a rule is a rule,
and the red, red rascal 
is no sister's fool.
In the Putnam meadow 
grows a poison lily,
if I were a smart girl, 
I would take it with me.

So she's taken her dress up, 
and she's tied back her hair
with a winsome ribbon 
such as never were,
and she looked as brazen 
as the scalded sea,
when the sun rips its favors 
into morning's peace.

She's an auburn woman 
on mahogany mare,
she was dressed full bloody 
for the devil's despair.
And it was no lily 
for his cardamom lips,
but for girl and filly, 
and for hooves and hips.

All the plants in Putnam 
grow a venomous green.
It was milk and money 
made the meadows mean.
There she's taken her flower, 
and she's borne it away,
under nettled fingers 
that she daren't display.

From the Ipswich river, 
riding easterly
to the black oak sapling, 
where three fences meet,
and she knows he's waiting, 
and she's down from her horse,
and per their agreement, 
she is walking backwards.

Cloven hoofprints pressing 
in a ravenous reel,
it's a phantom tarries 
at her heart and her heel.
And with each foot stepping, 
there's a petal has gone
from a noxious blooming 
to a maidenly tongue.

Did the devil take her? 
Did the devil decide
on a red carnation 
or a red-blooded bride?
He's been up her ankle, 
and he's taken his treat,
and he's eaten apples 
full of poison lily.

Satan wears a flower 
like a dandy heathen,
it's a fairer lily 
than the one that she gave him.
He's a rowdy rascal 
with a hearty complexion--
it's the very color 
of a lily stamen.