Mossfall
Within that sunny soil's peat
Where gravestones, flowers, at my feet;
where worms and spinners bringing life
lay claim to wistful, tattered dreams.
And flowers, pulling, buried deep -
Inverted roots bereaving me.
And flowers, searching, tethered tight -
Unseeing, grip relentlessly.
Body sleeping, heart-string singing,
Ears endazzled, eyes still ringing;
without stamen, gentle flower,
here is a thing wholly devoured.