[on the edge of the apocalypse]

on the edge of the apocalypse
there was a flower
that promised renaissance

don’t pick it, you said,
let it grow
(and the scene was so mushroom-cloud cliched)

but i did pull its stem
from the roots with a soft pop
to hand it to you;
you were too beautiful
to not deserve the last flower
and, anyway,
what is a flower
without a bee?