By Mike Santora

Featured Art: I Will Be Gone, But Not Forever by John Sabraw

O Rafflesia, why so down
in the canopy?
Let’s see anything else
toil for nine months
in the Sumatran jungle and come out
smelling like a rose.
You, cater the tree shrew cotillion.
Just ask the sly monks in Thailand.
Whether your medicine is gospel
can be argued in a lab until
pencils snap,
but in peninsular Malaysia,
you clot the bloodbath
after another girl handles
a birth by herself.                        
           Where were the roses then?
I know that I am petal-less
but what are you doing
for the next Millenia?
You could have me,
if you’d have me.
After I’ve died,
you can attach yourself to my breast.
I’d like to wear my last parasite
on the outside, like a corsage.    
   Or is it that you
       are wearing me,
               and it’s my turn
to live something
              like a flower?

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Michael Santora received his MFA in Creative Writing from the University of New Hampshire. His first chapbook, Sugarflood, was published in 2017 by Finishing Line Press. His poems have appeared in Booth, Dukool, Grey Sparrow, and others. He lives in Cleveland, OH with his wife and two children.