After George Rodrigue’s “Hawaiian Blues”
As the sun rose from the ashes,
a seed nestled deep within my brain,
sprouting a blossom that hide from
the thoughts buried in my head,
like a butterfly reincarnating from their cocoon.
Nurtured by pink flesh membrane
Watered by the flood of anxiety that had broken my dam
Mutated and morphed by bastard genetics,
these seedlings overtook my empty wasteland
like a vine that slithers silently and stealthily through the desert.
as the sun rose from the ashes,
darkness fooled my conscious
and I realized that my head
,once like the abandoned skeleton of a junkyard car,
had birthed yellow magnolias
where my sunflower eyes had now vacated.
My paws clawed against the violent wind,
feeling the silky petals break off
and flutter through the air
like a kaleidoscope of butterflies
nursing at the roots hidden deep within
my sapphire fur.
the sound roaring in the caves of my ears
like an aggressive wave fighting against the unphased edge of a rock.
The pool moistening the webs beneath my toes
photographed the deep yellow eyes staring back at me.
The fluttering had stopped,
the wings had closed,
the petals had shriveled.
Since I don’t know what I am
I can’t know what I see.
I extinguish with the sunset as the flame deep within my eyes continues to burn through the hoods over my flowers,
Blinded by the image of butterflies and magnolias that haunt my dreams like the ghosts that tapped us on the shoulder and danced with us by the rocks arguing with the waves.