Amorphophallus titanium:
The Corpse Flower, dormant for 10 years, opens
its eight-foot petals, blood-red on the inside,
green without, a single phallic-shaped leaf
rising 20 feet from the center, stench of rotting flesh
in the 48-hour bloom to attract pollinators.
A queue along the sidewalk shuffles into the campus
greenhouse all day and evening at the peak of fertility,
some children holding their noses, others in line coughing
or grunting in disgust. Still, visitors file past hour
after hour to see the endangered plant, native to the forests
of Sumatra, grown in greenhouses around the world
while prize roses idle in the corner, orchids go unnoticed,
the mouth of a Venus Fly Trap gapes just a glance away.
But the crowds want novelty, even if it’s offensive,
and the Corpse delivers before it shrivels and produces
clusters of fruit for birds to disperse (if only it could
live outdoors). In its lifespan in captivity, the flower
blooms only three or four times, each instance drawing
the curious from all walks of life to cringe at its odor
and marvel at its great two-toned petals and that single,
leaf protrusion.
I wait for two hours in a hot greenhouse.
I breathe in that carrion odor and gawk at the phallic leaf
long and stiff, rising from the lips of the blushing flower.
It is beyond spectacular.
