January 10, 2013 § 3 Comments
I cut the day room flowers at night
Leave you suckling on a tube
Connected to your rusting diver’s lung.
At night the blooms are furled
Their thick flavours a chilled whisper of scent
By morning my harvest of colour will not choke you.
The silver garden is an entire world
Each insect child with its slow, silent tread
Thinks of Drizel the caco-huntress on her silver, writhing web.
Vixen, keep your cubs in sunlight, moonlight
Cancer thrives at the heart of the home
Indoors is where the dying goes on.
Dawn’s bright flash consumes the shadows
No ghost spiders, no rattling heaves of breath
The surviving flowers reach for the light beyond the garden.
For every copy sold, 50% of royalties will be donated for cancer research