Heroin Ghazal

Growth has lifted the county that buried sunflower seeds
deep into the flesh of every body, buried, sprouting seeds

uncurling green as a smile, and if you do that with enough
bodies, the ground will begin to part in plaits, seeds

expanding into blossoms, petaled heads pointing up
towards a light, until even that light is propagating, it seeds

out over the town, over the small church with its graying
painted windows, an image from Matthew of the sower and his seeds

upon the rocks, and wasn’t this such a barren ground before
we started planting deep within gunshot wounds, death now seedy

yellow heads pointed always towards God. We will force this God
into the least of these, the ones who wouldn’t grow without seed

on a finger poked into the muscle, just so, placed so shallow, the body

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