Nothing else in the swamp rises beyond
the surprise of you
                         and your sweet repetition.  
 
Your boldness I'd expect of the cottonmouth
sunning by the bald cypress,  
 
your plenitude matched only
                                    by last year's
tent caterpillars, whose droppings,
when they fell,
                         ticked a steady shower.   
 
And what of the music in your name,
hiding your poison?  
 
You are danger, deep-throated cup
lipping the stippled light,
                         brightening the leaf mold.  

            Dear red-stained lily. Rain lily.
Zephyr lily. Dear fairy lily.        
                                    Wild Easter lily.  
My dear, dear stagger grass.