Sunday, October 27, 2013


I bought a bouquet
Arum lilies
Beautiful white
Purity’s flowering

It’s easy to be pure
When there is no life

A bouquet of lilies
No scent
Nothing to remind
Of earlier memories
Grandma’s soda bread
Fresh peas unpodded
The smell of a puppy
The scent of man’s odour

A bouquet of flowers
Placed and positioned
With careful attention

Yet life more random
Than careful
More opportunist
Than placed
Has left
Many ragged edges

Edges not contained
Inside a bouquet

The bouquet laid
On the grave
Of my passion
Blood and bone
Mulching my dreams
Thoughts infatuations

Spent passion
Decaying, wilting lilies
Curling brown
Ringlets of desire

Into dust
The dust we are
The dust we will be
Dust cradling us
Holding us
While waiting
The resurrection of passion
Life’s potentiality

Breaking us apart

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