rebecca bloom is dead

passed through the shadows
like a throat-song
unstuck
to burst & breed
dream deep
below the
garden

who's been pickin'
flowers
from the dark
behind my back?
who's burying
intentions
half-
forgotten?

tell me
I'm the only
dirt worth
thinkin' of

dissolved
in muddled twilight

held up
to seep
through skin

tell me
every truth
that you
deem possible

drink from
autumn-rich skies
a sketch
composed
in rain
subtitled: tales
from an ex-weed
choked by
roses