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00:00 / 00:29

Every petal on their skin a mouth

for the light, digesting the sun

to make it sweet, make it edible.

Alchemy at work in the slender bones

slipping from dresses, print by print;

lawns showered by the tattering silks,

the scatter of magnolia feathers.

The trial of the bloom begins.

Reward us for the rains, for the heat.

Nominated for The Pushcart Prize by readers of Black Bough Poetry

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