Lisianthus

we choose a flower

by the petal of its silk 

arrests my tongue at the hammer 

of a gun its grip a waist 

tender as Lisianthus this

death is lip in this lip

I’ll sip from the muzzle

one bullet for every beat

of every hour I’d blast 

a breast at the barrel

lock our eyes in a safety

so stemless so thin this satin

feral feeling lower your arm 

where I can flower, I follow 

and the petals too we hit

the dirt cold sole to sole

heart full of holes each

one glance wide ~