Wednesday, April 30, 2008


A posy and the world is hers
adored and awash in adulation
she loves me
she loves me not
pressing blanches vibrancy
and constancy
and consolation.

To pick a flower
to take a trophy
to posses,
to have and to hold
to a dry a flower
to keep a petal
come masochism
or mold.

The mystery
in a magnolia
is perhaps within a line
listen to me
the distance from A to B
when Georgia’s
on my mind.

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