Prologue
A stem divides my face.
Between petals and snout, I practice invisibility.
Graphite hums: remember the vase, not the viewer.

Body I
The bottle holds its breath —
a vertical throat of reflections.
I hide behind the flower’s logic:
to bloom is to pretend at permanence.
The glass forgets which side the air is on.
You see me through me,
pig and petal folded into one transparency.
The world is a sketch that refuses to dry.

Body II
The flower trembles: who’s blooming whom?
My snout answers in circles.
Somewhere a hand pauses mid-line,
aware that the drawing has begun to think.
We share the same stem now,
rooted in observation, watered by doubt.

DADA-Break
oink-bloom-ink-glass
O I N K (petal static)
ink-ink-oink

Closing
I stay among the stems until graphite grows tired.
Tomorrow, perhaps, I’ll be the vase,
and the flower will remember me by scent alone.