A passionflower’s little crucifixion,
Aureoles of petals, an evening dress.
Stuck behind the ear, a wild corsage,
At its centre a Golgotha
Encircled by satanic stigmata.

A passionflower’s a little rhino horn,
An aphrodisiac with its waxy skin
Ruffled and crushed in a book.
Its dust like asphodel
That makes Beelzebub sneeze.

Robert Cole