"A Stop On the Road North" by David Troupes

The single daffodil rested in its little vaselike a deadand gummy bait eel stewing in the tide. Lightfrom the window passed through the yellowmeat of the stalkwhich slump-stood in water as paleas evening piss, and as motionlessin the vaseas a universe seen from the outside. The flower,though dead, was a blooming of the water,as though that universe had cried outto be saved and this were its strange fulfillment.