I'm alone on the lower deck
of the number one, a bunch
of orange chrysanthemums
with lime green eyes on my lap.
The flowers shout out; perverted daisies
(in Old English, it's daes eage).
We pass what was the deaf-blind school,
all boarded up now with the stucco stained.
There are no more lessons happening
any more, only years and years
of small animals leaving musk traces
in emptied rooms, filling them again with breath.
The stench must say home to where
it can't be anything but heard.