Anointed Flower Poem by Mark Heathcote

I am an anointed flower nodding heavily
listening to the crickets drowning song
afraid the iris of my eyes baited hook
will close; with dusty lost impressions-
all roots must have motes of light
diminutive fingers clutching onto stars
all roots must have oven-baked loaves
feeding the mouth of a songbird not heard-
singing, since the Garden of Eden.

I am anointed fly-foam in a mirror image
I decay from this dew lit world, wilt and fall
in petals around a mountain of ice
in clouds of historic ancient mist
in waters bowelled in a canyons cave
not a word, not a sentence was said
I had already been deemed long dead
the day I was born, a flower of ash,
swabbed golden hatched in a bee's cell.