Tulips by Mary Ellen Redmond

Tulips

I love tulips, especially in the dead of winter.
I love them even when they die.
They become something else entirely,
and somehow, more beautiful.
The petals dry and shrink and their bright colors fade.
Some crimp and curl creating petal-globes
surrounding the stamen and style.
Others flatten like a splayed star
revealing their inner workings.
Soon, the long green stems will arc
from the vase towards the table
resembling old women burdened
by the task of staying alive.
Now, I see the petals as tongues—
talking among themselves.

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Mary Ellen Redmond’s poems have appeared in a number of journals including Rattle and The Cortland Review, but the publication she is most proud of is the poem tattooed on her son’s ribcage. Her interview with Gregory Orr was published in The Drunken Boat. Her poem “Fifty-Six Days” earned a Best of the Net nomination in 2016 and her poem “Joy is not made to be a crumb” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2024.