Claudia Emerson

Orchid Anatomy

This evening’s study the anatomy of the orchid,
the greenhouse glows—jut of glass at the third story
 
of the science building—a small, tended jungle
thriving in its humid room. Wearing identical
 
lab aprons, they lean over the misting table
or peer into the daintier air-orchids
 
in order to name and sketch the parts,
committing to memory the sepials, inner whorl
 
of petals, the column where male and female
fuse, and the sticky, stigmatic surface
 
of the pouting lip where birds, moths,
and bees would land if allowed this sterile
 
world. Each wall even the vaulted roof
a canvas, all their breathing dissolves
 
into the ordered atmosphere of this
one, sustained season—until, if seen
 
from the outside, the glass’s weeping would
render them recognizable but changed,
 
their bodies, braids, aprons, the green leaves running
into a pleasing, impressionistic bleed.
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