Magnolia blossoms

on a half-dead tree,

shine gone from more

than half the leaves

but the flower radiates

the force that's left.

Scenes with missing people

where I see its petals floating

as a bright reminder.

Airport benches

masked in evil light

and the shadows

of benevolent machine guns

fall under the spell

of the desperate magnolia

files and lines of mowed-down

faint material becoming

throbbing hearts, reflected deaths

of the bloom that is a wound

to all its dying branches,

roots and gathered vines

the glory in relentless decline.