Planter's Glass
To look on the
storm's face in
the passion of
shorn weeds— the
flower cannot eat;
green squeezed;
riddled rain
disease.
Ground set; glory
ebbed— shaking in
sheds; another
stem's shine and
shimmer less.
The girl sways
with the shears—
fire bloom falls,
repeat inside
her ears.
Copyright © Paige Hind | Year Posted 2023
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