Thursday, May 8

Not Flowers

flowers by
the road

echo slowly
the crept

toward
death; their

neighbour
sign—that

witnesses
called—

has been
finally

removed,

& the flowers
flutter

golden orange
yellow grey

out of view
into the

wheeze of
passing cars

; no street-
cleaner

removes
pavement

weeping
or SON in

letters, as
bold as I am

to like cars
pass by

& see the
unseen yearn

for life not flowers.

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