as your petals
fall. Stand up tall

to the sun. Do not
bow your face, You

don’t have a fan
of violet. You’re shy. Let

all fall free. Your blanket
is the sky. No longer

attached. The appendages
are not your patch. Bare is

beautiful. It has a shiny
head. Some say bare is dead. But

it is not. The moon is bare. It
glows in dark.