Fearing Death I had polyamorous flowers.
Kept them occupied for hours with April showers
wisping in the muse
of my torrential
Minerva.

Slung low in the hip of dawn
I quake with ankles akimbo at sunrise
in my Night Kingdom.
So many blind Butterflies
to never catch-
sipping the Nectar of a Nod
where I kept It
seeping a
Dream.