Wildflowers

Moving across the face of the world as across the face of my own life
I become aware of the wildflowers within
the exuberance at the cracks of my being
a topography embodied in the tension between profusion and constraint

that which sustains can at once corrode
a metaphor of growth taken so far as to cut away that which does not conform
and thus do we inhibit life in our refusal to immerse in our decay
to be curious
to follow our noses to the stench of that which feeds us

the most fertile places also the most dangerous
the monsters here look us in the eye, asking politely why we insist on cannibalism
and offering choice bits of themselves for our edification
pointing out the places within us that in turn sustain them

savagery erupts in a vain attempt to cleanse that which is meant to be embraced
the hollows of flesh draped over bones
and hungry innards
becomes a proclamation of transcendent self while our food rots on the hoof
bones bleaching in the harsh light of our purity
all withers

neutered now, our birthing lacks blood, toothless
we yearn to be trees whose roots crack the very foundations of the cosmos
to have no knowledge of the possible
grinding finally into the dust we drink to reform the worlds
layer upon layer, bone song of flute and rattle
guides the way to our graveyard selves and the stories we cannot but love