words

i must implant this thought
in a seed, a bud,
within the blooming heart
of an orchid
whose petals open wide
to let in the sun.

i must encapsulate this moment
within the soluble walls
of a pill, broken apart
in to milligrams
and put away in a bottle
with other similar moments
to be unhoused
at some more pressing time.

i must till the soil surrounding this idea,
drop it in a tiny earthen hole
and enclose it with dirt
to come back months later
to great rising stalks of genius
which i must then hack down
and gather and consume.

i must wrap this sensation in a cocoon
to keep the instar safely hid,
waiting for eclosion,
waiting to pump fluid in to its wings
before escaping quietly
on the edge of a breeze,
sailing about the night
like some lunar native
on its way to some greater cause.

-S.C. Martinez