Flowers Shall Grow

From our bodies, dead and deceased, of decaying flesh rotted off bone, poking through loose lavish soil flowers sprout and feed from the sun From the corpse's arm, a reeling ranunculus reaches toward the sky’s bright star snaking its roots between marrow and meal suckling the dew of morning’s break From the heel, a snapdragon floret promenades through the skin of carbon feet folding petals, one over the other drawing beauty from From the stomach, a dahlia blossoms digesting under a tree’s great shade awaiting their repressed august-time bloom only to wilt in a thickened frost From the chest, a celosia blooms budding across the lung’s final breath and releasing into the atmosphere a life, reborn from nature’s death