Nothing More Than Flowers

Sweep your mind
posture after posture of pretense,
a lifetime of competing for a bold position
next to the master.

The heart treads lightly at dawn
ready to release the brow
from holding, like lace
unraveling all her stitches
at the tattered hem of accuracy
just for the sake of argument.

And when the soul is privy to heaven
and the wale of too much love stings sweetly,

let kindness extinguish the holding,
the unceasing friendship
that binds us to everything holy.


It is here that you will cleanse
the bones of your body
with God's words and let yourself pray
for another day to gather daisies
and purple-faced iris
into bouquets
of nothing more
than flowers.