• Fearsome Critters

Sunflowers — Eric Orosco

Uncle—they grew like beanstalks

toward the graying sky.

To me, my world had twenty suns

all lined in a row along your house.


When they wilted—yellow curling

into a brittle brown—I took their seeds

and scattered them over your soil.

In five years I would scatter you the same way.

Ashes to soil, sun to seed.

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