The Museum of Wax Flowers
when aqueous humors die in the ox-eye
daisy and all the flowers gone
fashion them false gather only cessations
in your arms oceans of honey combed
the pollinators have perished see you
are dying and need an elegant amusement
suitable for nuns and the fair sex to pass time left
so replicate the kingdom of flowers in beeswax
fill palaces with all the cherry blossoms
from spring craft pink petals thumb thinned
let the heat of your hands modeling warm
these likenesses to combust with godbreath
and restore — no — you know your own hunger
and its wet ember four hundred species
of hawkweed are on display as memory
your sorry struck match only melts colors
and the forms pool dip your finger
in the wax then your limbs wear it
like a second skin take your place