My Favourite Bloom

We talked about flowers that evening
My grand mother called her ,Lotus
She could bury herself in the mud
For the whole night and resurface in the morning
More fresh and more robust
 
She was a power,new power
She could articulate her needs quietly,unconscious
O Lotus
A landslide loss!

In the dark she punched her unsophisticated heart
She wept and wept in pain
But in the morning
She took it away and played
The norm
The norms were fierce
 broke her into pieces
Pieces of wrath....
O my lotus...
O my favourite bloom..