Flower Wars
L. Creager
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Sleeping bluebells torn by the handful
Still smell like last night's fires And the wise man's tales Of the earth gone sour Fleshy beads of a rosary Clutched in prayer for rain They twist and turn against the flowery death Their murderer, upside down God is upside down now He asks for too much He wants chambers and arteries And heads and blood He wants all the bluebells War-painted and wild-caught Weeping and wailing To die an honorable death |
Field of Flowers | Suzanne Snow | Mixed Media
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