Since I missed my chance to die young, I better do a lot of things before I die old,
Swears the
crumbling flower. She spreads her roots
through the soil substitute of melting concrete and petals ride and jive in the
tire grooves of speeding Mack trucks.
The trail of pink juices lead out, over the Willis Avenue Bridge, up
north, to the nature substitute of
a highway. The dragged molecules rejoice in their
escape to experience can they cross the border?
Passport in leaves
who is that face in an exotic two by two print? Wept pollen covers a small book stamped over with the words
“CHILDHOOD – departed” “FRIENDSHIP -
departed” “MOTHERHOOD – departed” in
languages a flower may never hear. The
yellow dust completely effaces “__________ - entered.” Bees case the pamphlet, licking softly pages
and the covers…
Wrapped up in
covers tightly in beds, they can all weep, and each isolated petal believes she
is separate explain where was the stem left behind and why not?