Milkweed

.

The spiked bone
cracked open, threaded
to a dried stalk,
disheveled by the mower.

A layer of matted marrow,
then the flat round
orange seeds inside,
stacked dense as scales,
and the white,
web-thin wings.

Their light tassels
flick open, the breeze
eases them from my hand.
While plumes speckle
this rusting
October field.

.