From a flower
LE Francis
Where have you gone, my dear?
I’ve waited here, slouching in
scorched hoofprints where death-
black horses trod, until I too passed,
a casualty of will,
gone to seed & slumber,
cycle stronger than form.
Will we ever resume? Will I bloom &
become? Sun-drowned, soil-bound,
ruled by live roots, stardust pipelines
joining sky & soil, shadow & shade;
fated & fixed to wait for the gods
to see how my colors have changed.
How did we never notice? We were
concerned with the colors of petals,
the shape of stems & somehow missed
the rattle of chariot wheels as Hades
rolled in. Seems there was much
that we missed as girls & blossoms,
as those who never seem lovely enough until
we are plucked & remade, our justice dependent
on a sympathetic eye following the pearls of our
tears, of our petals, strewn in black-burned ruts,
& I ask the world to go quiet in our mourning,
for deserts to bloom where the mother treads.
Let us become remade in our agony,
another shade deeper, lovelier & waiting
again for the gods to notice us.
52
Cauldron Anthology