in my head—cut-leaved
toothwort wave like they've just lost
a war, a wardrobe

supercut of us
during the pandemic—wild
geranium roots

trout lily watches
trout circle the same silty
spot—all the magic

all the love we had
had fit in the buttercup's
fragile reflection

and in my head you
can use toadshade as tires but
they have bad traction

may-apple, never
stop growing near me okay
said the road's shoulder

ribbons—marigold
bud and molten glass and live
music—wrap me up

but when I read your
future, there's still plenty of
heaven and fire pink

just a supercut
just—a supercut just a
supercut larkspur