everyday I go to sleep
flowers grow on me
like they grow on graves,
sensing death bit by bit
midway in my dreams
I wake up to pull them away
maybe I still see life in everyday
I'm too fertile,
like the cracked open soil
eaten by worms
qualified to become a good flowerbed
with tinge of salt and warmth
what when one of these days
I sleep with no feeling of grief
and lie down welcoming
the smell of poppies and lillies?
everyday I go to sleep
flowers grow on me
- Swarup