Thousands
of little flowers spinning
in the morning:
dried petals frict
at their base, seeding pollen to
the wind.
The cure to
our inevitable demise
is beauty.
An engineer
built these flowers—
and died of cancer.
Her children
dance in fields of
invention.
First published in Bull Spec, issue 1,
2010-03-15.
That magazine is gone, so this is the copy that’s left.
As it ran
Bull Spec, issue 1 (Spring 2010)
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