Blooming under
a deep, gold bar

mahogany squash
color, containing the

cherished dew of
midnight's tears

we need the entangled
silence of soil. The source

of the Sequoias and the
bones of eternal Prague

daffodils laced with the
benign clarity of liquefying

moonlight, and Bull Nose peppers
seeking atonement in erotic rage

feeding from the palms of strangers
we need the soil, the stripped out

             skin of God