Where the wildflowers are


A lady bit a face into a leaf
when the wildflowers were asleep

The face a plate of shock and horror
at what the world had become

The top of the face, a pumpkin’s
handle, eyes to the sky

green cataracts
carved into a scream

When the flowers woke
they didn’t understand who was among them
and they could not escape

A turkey vulture flew overhead
silent soaring
eyes on the dead
who stood paralyzed
on the verge of a thing

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