This automatic flower

is divine.

It fills my nectar-fied ears and my magnetized honey

Eyes.

I find that

This automatic flower

Blooms late at night.

It reads fluorescent green;

(torpedo-ing) petals.

This automatic flower

drinks dime juice.

It runs on batteries.

The roots split through migraine;

Grow through crevices of déjà vu.

I push a tendril aside,

And seek the sleeping chlorophyll bee.

-

This automatic flower

never turned on.


Strange image in my mind.