Bloom

Lay the world down.

Lay it sideways.

Lay it keen.

Lay it not like a novice
           who builds a fire from scratch.

Lay it down like dirt -
           pressed and hard
           inside this region of trouble.

Lay it soft, and lay it smooth.

And build that fire around it.
           Hard and clean and microscopic like a bud.
           Like an elbow.

Like a beating heart
           that has taken to living outside of the body.

Like a bud.

Like a red, red rosebud
           pressing its muscles to bloom.

Let it pulse
          with the meaning of everything.

A notion of truth
           clear and clean.
           And broken at the seam.

 

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