Resurrection

The morse

of cascading sirens
Born
Within the very core
Of innocence
Of seagulls
Kept echoing in the puffs
Of insane western wind
Pressuring
Massive tons
Of pure American Beauty
To move

And so they did

Bringing along
The resurrection
Of freshly shot
Leaves
Gravitating
Towards the light
Heaviness
Of linden’s dead
Offspring

The only thing missing was thee
bathtub
Floating
Insouciantly
In the blushing delicacy
Of publicly butchered

Rose petals