To examine the word ‘succulent’:
peel back and pull apart its sepals
to see the petals and the nectary.
Its tissue takes a mouth inward,
never satisfied with enough water
And I feel my layers fold on top of themselves
bergamot bundles of vein
in response to its water stress.
I would have to ask that swollen underground stem
if he would let me sleep, let me dream
in a soft amaze, hands on my snowy sides
Or sun-winged swallows, soaking in the Sweet William
as they wait for their star compass.