Hwit

after Ryuichi Sakamoto

How easily I became a daffodil
     Nest foundered by rain and antlife,
A lampshade with a blown bulb—
     All stalk but no show, no light.

No use for the nectary, ovule, style,
     The lolly anther and filament sliced.
What flighty thumb will screw into me
      Now, knowing where my stigma lies?