By Ken Marrott

Stretching her long neck above the fray, 
An Iris yawns today. 
Her gaped-smile, in this closed-eye dawn, a chorus 
That beckons fragrant-eyes to open in praise-prayer to Horus. 
First the sun and then the moon 
Lay gaze upon this iterative bloom. 
An iris, her countenance a celestial mirror, 
At once, a hard, charcoaled line and near 
Equally a feathered, watercolor slash. 
Leaves so tall, most dramatic—rash 
Spearmen, these, her armor 
Reckon earthbound praise of honor 
For a celestial queen, in earthly hat. 
An Iris, daughter—priestess of Ma’at.