Declaration of the Daffodil

Rusty-patched buzzes exploit, deteriorate
our star-shaped anatomies

I promised, I would keep spring, but for
dehydration, solar exhaustion, wilts my proposition

My narcissism is disorganized, an uncoiled
centipede, cluster of angry asters

April cannot explain why
pollinators infest my odes, why sonnets

Sound the sky, streak my
shadow where nothing breeds

I forget who discovered which
asteroid, how each of
the gods was named, while my buds out their
lineages until the

Mess we inherit materializes

Daffodils’ stigmas are apexes, they are
perpetually hunted

Since the moment of the
equinox, I’ve been stalked by dirty birds, yellow and
star-centered, my corona mutates
my face into a paradise for moths