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Sorrowful and mystical

A failure fragrant as magic.

Vulnerable and reflective

What have I made of your sacrifice. This bone: it is myself.

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“I gathered up your spine and built you on a dark day”
"My trenza, a piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return”

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"Corpse Flower” as a title, juxtaposes life and death and seeming intentionally contradicts itself from the start. Continuing on, the tone of the poem is ethereal yet melancholy in nature; another contradiction.

"a failure fragrant as magic” is seemingly another contradiction, as magic is typically used to denote ones unintentionally or misunderstood success.

the theme of “failure” could even serve as continued testament to this poem as a whole. Though publishing a poem is widely considered a success, the quality of this poem, in my opinion, leads me to believe it is a failure, as it didn't necessarily grasp my attention as i feel as poem should, what with its redundancy barely expounding upon its initial theme of failed growth.

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Contradicting yet specific
“What have I made of your  sacrifice. This bone, it’s mysef.”

Melancholy and mournful
"A piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return”

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Grief,
“still you don’t return.

A failure fragrant as magic.”

Reminiscent, “

I have buried each slow light: cardinal’s yolk, live seawater,

my trenza, a piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return.

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Dark and  Mournful

 “I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day. You are still missing

some parts.”

“My particular chiron: the record that your perfect feet ever graced

this earth. Homing signal adrift among stars, our tender impossible longing.”

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Memorable and soft.

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day. You are still missing

some parts. Each morning, I curl red psalms into the shells

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Mournful longing and critical.

“Each morning, I curl red psalms into the shells

in your chest. I have buried each slow light.”

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Lonely and sorrowful

“I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day. And still you don’t return.”

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Solemn desperation; Tragic

Each morning, I curl red psalms into the shells in your chest. I have buried each slow light: cardinal’s yolk, live seawater,my trenza, a piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return.

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"And still you don’t return”-illuminates how she is trying bring someone back, she is lonely trying to grieve which usually incinuates depression

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"Forever Living Death"

A failure fragrant as magic. Ascend the spirit into the design.
What have I made of your sacrifice. This bone: it is myself.

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Mournful longing and critical. “

“Each morning, I curl red psalms into the shells

in your chest.”

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Necessitous, solemn

my trenza, a piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return.

in your chest. I have buried each slow light: cardinal’s yolk, live seawater,

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Built complex

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elegant observation
•"Ascend the spirit into the design"
•"You are still missing some parts"

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Gracefully mournful and hopeful wishfulness

"a piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return".
 "I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day. "

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“What have I made of your sacrifice”

Hopelessness & utter despair

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Melancholy, depressed

Homing signal adrift among stars, our tender impossible longing.

What have I made of your sacrifice. This bone: it is myself.

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Emptiness and weak

“What have I made of your sacrifice. This bone: it is myself.”

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Macabre Beauty

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day.

Homing signal adrift among stars, our tender impossible longing.

What have I made of your sacrifice. This bone: it is myself.

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Macabre Beauty

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day.

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Macabre Beauty

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day.

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Macabre Beauty

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day.

# data[].attributes.body
Macabre Beauty

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day.

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Macabre beauty.

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Macabre beauty.

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day.

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Morbid beauty.

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Morbid beauty.

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my trenza, a piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return.

Insecure; reflective

What have I made of your sacrifice. This bone: it is myself.

Passionate

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-optimistic
“... the record that your perfect feet ever graced this earth”
-sorrowful
“I gathered up your spine and built you on a dark day.”

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Soft beauty

“ Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone”

 “the record that your perfect feet ever graced”

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The mourningful and desperate ritual
"

Each morning, I curl red psalms into the shells

in your chest. I have buried each slow light: cardinal’s yolk, live seawater,

“

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Nostalgia and insalubrious

the record that your perfect feet ever graced

Each morning, I curl red psalms into the shells

in your chest

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“Empty connection”
"You’re still missing some parts” reflects the poet’s idea that her altar is not complete, that it is missing some sort of spirit. However, the phrase “I gathered up your spine and built you on a dark day” reveals the poet’s continued longing and remembrance of her loved one(s). Though her form of reverence is incomplete, she still diligently makes the effort in hopes that someday her altar will be complete and fulfilled.

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Cold beauty

Homing signal adrift among stars, our tender impossible longing.

Yesterday, the final petal curled its soft lure into bone.

The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day

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Chilling beauty
"The final petal curled its soft lure into bone”

Everlasting Searching
“...a piece of my sons umbilical cord, and still you don’t return
"Homing signal adrift among stars”

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Longing and drear

my trenza, a piece of my son’s umbilical cord, and still you don’t return.

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Soft Lure
Impossible longing

“The flowerhead shed clean, I gathered up your spine

and built you on a dark day.”

“A failure fragrant as magic.”

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Tone: melancholy self-awareness
Quotes: “The bone: It is myself” “I gathered up your spine and built you an a dark day”