Your little monk

By Vincenzo Anastasia

Each time I take the buzzer to my head
I recall your fingers
gliding through the bristles
as you moaned, “My little monk.”

What seeds
your words planted
and your good deeds watered,
budding a lotus flower
with petals prickling from my scalp.

I’m all out of promises
to myself.
I’d rather be one.
I want to be reincarnated as a lily pad
in Eden’s pond,
if such paradoxes can exist.

And I want you reincarnated
as you are, perfect in touch
and planting, and knowing
just what to say.

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Vincenzo Anastasia is a poet, photographer, and filmmaker with a B.A. in Creative Writing from Western Connecticut State University. His poems have appeared in a Writerscorp anthology, Minarets, and Quarter Press. He also has poems forthcoming in Midway Journal, Little Patuxent Review, and NonBinary Review. He lives in Connecticut.