by Holly Day
flames flicker like flowers
unfurling their petals at dawn. I stand on the sand
fingers dripping with pollen from trying
to pry the petals apart, from reaching in to stoke
driftwood shudders beneath the heat
resisting involuntary impregnation.
wharf rats scuttle off in fear of me
my experiments in eugenics
as more flames take root, cast long
fearful shadows along the concrete spillway.