The Life Cy­cle of Flow­ers


Here, clove of night

and woman and woman and woman and many small seeds

within them: fig and fen­nel, seed of this con­ti­nent,

seed of wind, seed of sor­row, seed of grey mat­ter, seed of daugh­ter

and daugh­ter.

The walk across the river, the sweet ar­rival,

the wren’s call from within the depths of slen­der trees.

Here, it took ev­ery­thing,

ev­ery pre­cious metal, ev­ery child­hood story,

ev­ery cashew stripped of its shell—

woman and woman and woman ar­riv­ing bare

and blank

(seed of si­lence).

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