Mirror like bodies carry mimicry of life
Black bodies turn into black voids
I had a dream last night of when I met the state
A Crane Flower so pure
Climbed out of my throat, dug its roots on my tongue, and shook their hand with its bud
Hard lived teeth
I bite on the stem before they can yank it out
I remember the Crane Flower bobbing back and forth with enthusiasm in front of my house
I wonder if it was warning me or if it was giddy with delight