A poem

Scent of larkspur greets me
as I head windward, enslaved in my body
vermilion blossoms delight me, a mariner
on this stormy sea of pain
I am incandescent that I lived when death came
I execrate my fiendish body
on which hare brained surgery was performed
I miss my Dad’s fingers in the tendril of my hair
he is in the lattice of my thoughts