THE ANTITHESIS 

The Sun had accused you of Moonglow and ficus drama
Wilting in a pot of your standard loame, driven to uncoil roots
Beneath the peaty and vermiculite… summoning a Gardener-
With more Faith than You.

Your hangnail squeeks, but your Polaroids stack like crackers
On a memory with a soft focus… and you can just make out 
The God that spoiled your Fun. 
All that revelation in your eyes
Suspended in Truth
With chemicals that hardly care-
How You got
Exposed.