Sweet Cybele

Three a.m. is a lonely hour to die.
But there are
worse things.

Cybele follows a man
to a small, cold room.
He spends a lifetime there
buzzing in mad circles
like a wasp in a
field of a thousand flowers.
So many, many.
She gets drunk
and watches the fuzz
on the broken TV.
Soon she’s out
like a light.
He opens himself
gently
and lies down
to bloom.

It’s a night of honey and amnesia.

In the morning, a thick red
thread tracks the bathroom
to the bed.
When asked
she’ll say she doesn’t know
why he did that.
But she does.

He wanted to be
the loveliest
flower
of all
for her.