The Sun and Her Flowers: A Zombie Poem

this is the recipe of life
said my mother
as she held me in her arms as i wept
think of those flowers you plant
in the garden each year
they will teach you
that people too
must wilt
in order to bloom

This is the rhythm she made dancing
for joy and sorrow among a boll-weevil
shower of stars. “Of life,” said my mother
as she struck rage in her arms, as I wept,
“this house of House, dream spot, plant.
In the changes each year, heat will teach
you that life everywhere must wilt,
fall, root, rise, in guidance, to bloom.”

Zombie Rupi

Leave a Reply