No One Belongs Here More Than You

The stem of my soul
Strips wet-winged petals,
Fingers forage through forests
Where man has always spade
Feral desires of the moist earth,
Only some have committed to burial

This is my night’s confession
In a fucking flower garden,
Where metaphor is merely
A carnival to describe my turbulent heart,
Small-deaths spinning the Ferris Wheel

The boy who played too often in the rain,
How they laughed, failing to
See the watermark on his neck.
The man who fell to earth from a
Plastic starship parked in the yard,
Penis strung from South African gallows.

Darling, I must whisper this.
Lost in the cold
To a hearth where
A wood fire was once ablaze

In kindle of a new burner,
The tranquillity of ice
Skates solace and sensual
Blades over my raw skin

The flower garden alluring
As cinema aisles for silent film,
Summer will be
When it arrives