by Brandon Shane
There’s a flower in my garden I’ve kept alive
for many seasons now; winter came for it
and the worms came for it, but nothing
has done my little flower in; a cathedral
arched over hell & the walls still breathe,
the pews are yet to become porous & now
that summer comes, it will bloom again,
after surviving many terminal illnesses,
& attempted murders, defying scientists;
it will be so beautiful there, but,
never as beautiful as when the snow came,
every idol had drowned beneath paleness,
& when I’m asked about my muse,
I think of the idle stem, torn petals, tiny thing
defying all reason, fighting against the world,
becoming and becoming and becoming.
Brandon Shane is a poet, born in Yokosuka Japan. You can see his work in the Berlin Literary Review, Acropolis Journal, Grim & Gilded, Sophon Lit, Marbled Sigh, RIC Journal, Heimat Review, Ink in Thirds, Dark Winter Lit, among others. He would later graduate from Cal State Long Beach.
