Ode to a Vanilla Cactus Flower (Selenicereus grandiflorus)

Here in the dark, her petals, as white
as the moonbeams endeavoring to match
the magnetism of her light,
from viperous vines that creep, from gray
and tawny spikes that chafe and scratch,
she flashed, then faded away.

For a little while, she laughed at the moon.
For one short night, she howled to be heard.
For a fleeting span, she began to croon,
cried out like some tropical bird.

Who was it that heeded her honeyed voice,
paler than chalk and as fragrant as June?
Neither ear nor antenna nor tongue had a choice
but to shimmy and trip to that tune.

While the world and its din were in slumberous rest,
the air was aflutter with mammals that fly
and ravenous moths keen to ingest
her nectar before she should die.

The Queen of the Night has appeared from the void,
a darkness no mind can grasp or know.
Unfolding her senses, she calmly enjoyed
Earth’s transitory show.

She is gone for good: her lace-like strands
and her flower within a flower (akin
to a sea anemone). All that stands
are unlovable leaves and a stalk that is snaking
and clinging and climbing and blending in
with the new day quietly breaking.