Thrones of Grief

Ready, Set, Push Up Daisies!

Are you as resolute in your garden When the blossoms are thick With the sap of pilfered joy As you would be while sipping the fuel for a God (or two) Glaring sidelong at the leaves Those individual thrones of silent grief Telling tales of a time in which The currency was ripe with disbelief Ask for judgment with that broken wing pinned back Stained in oil and the blood of compatriots who gave their breath Ask for what is not yours, then Ask Death