The heart / splits open like / a frost flower—

When the creation is told / backwards, the dark waters / slip through God’s fingers,

“A true King serves his Queen. Meaning, always adjusts her crown when she bows at his feet.”

Adopted oak tree / Has a mid-life crisis

My body is soft like the smell of amber, but I strain to thin it into nothing.

We are one tremendous
field of undulating
flowers

waiting till it happens