1

flower after flower
cut
   
        (old flowers
        camellias,
        hibiscus,
        orchids,
        wisteria)

back to their insipid roots;

ageless rocks hoard
their diamond-and-silicon
seeds.
        Someone crushed
the few bright petals
we had picked (laboring,
in the ocean’s turbulence,
to pound in the iron,
drilled clear through).

2

then, with smoke heavy
on our clothing,
and our wits disheveled,
siliceous and disordered,
our tears cold ice
floes (and of the sea
a Japanese print —
        postponed crescendo)
in the slow throes
of death’s protocols,
platitudinous
shrouds hanging
from a bit of barbwire.