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
myopia
or mold.
The mystery
in a magnolia
is perhaps within a line
linearity
listen to me
the distance from A to B
when Georgia’s
on my mind.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment