Bloom
Lay the world down.
Lay it sideways.
Lay it keen.
Lay it not like a novice
who builds a fire
from scratch.
Lay it down like dirt -
pressed and hard
inside this region
of trouble.
Lay it soft, and lay it smooth.
And build that fire around it.
Hard and clean
and microscopic like a bud.
Like an elbow.
Like a beating heart
that has taken
to living outside of the body.
Like a bud.
Like a red, red rosebud
pressing its muscles
to bloom.
Let it pulse
with the meaning of
everything.
A notion of truth
clear and clean.
And broken at
the seam.