Cartography

when a parrot dies in Key West
there are no markers left behind
to remember wing and eye – instead

all birds gather at the darkest time
of night and carry the corpse
to a secret garden on the island

where flowers thrive in the midst
of millionaires and their concrete blueprints
there they offer the flowers the colors

of the bird in an applause of feather
and song and the flowers gently take
them into their own and by morning

shine them to the blue heavens
vibrant blues, reds, greens, and yellows
prismatic – and nothing around knows

but the sky