Clover
Clover
Clover
by Christian Ward
And, should I go, please let only clover spring like a Jack in the Boxfrom my body. Do not attract postcard-perfect roses. No buddleia and their lances of flowers nosing the air. No orchids, please (do not be seduced by the Dracula simia's monkey face). No bird of paradise flowers to origamimourners' hearts into kittens. Let the humble clover go viral from my ribcageuntil the plot is greener than a night bingeing on Attenborough. Let them slippast couriers and food delivery guys, turning patches green while another sliceof pizza is slid down quicker than the finger on tonight's Netflix selection. Let the nitrogen flow until the rarest of trees and flowers are bloomingand it is broadcast on television sets of Glasswing butterflies. Let the leafcutter ants say this is a gift on the sails of leaves on their backs and for the rain and the wind to know this is all I could give.