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
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