but these flowers, see? I've been carrying them most of today in my 
pocket. smashed, discoloured, dissolving. they still have their scent, 
it's their last voice to shout their lives to this cruel world.. I lick 
one experimentally. the experiment fails..
to the back door and out they go
falling slowly like a vital scene in a movie- filmed in slo-mo
to land like art in the grass
red rages on the green green grass
then they die in the sun
broken jesus's on invisible crucifix's
i see the flowers you've carried like children..