A poppy blossomed from my lover's chest
So I got my gardening gloves, my gardening shears
And snapped it off at the sternum
In our musty dirt-cellar I ground the seeds
Chased my lover through saccharine dreams
We were on top of a hill when I put each foot
In front of the other simultaneously and jumped
Forward, across and over the tops of pines,
Landed on a rock plateau and snapped my toothpick bones,
Starting with my ankles and ricocheting upward
Until my neck turned to jelly and bent sharply forward.
The dead weight pulled until the skin of my neck
Snapped in two like toffee pulled thin by bickering children.
My head came to a rest in her sternum's cavity
Where the poppy stem and roots had rotted, making way
For beetles, nightcrawlers, and my lilting tongue.
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