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Convolvulus Flowers
I start backwards
the last decade
pale blue flowers
groping vine fingers
clinging to masonry
above: the sky
Lower down
tangled confusion
weed and thorn
which way and that
pain of pricked fingers
quick blood, starts and stops
Underneath
some blackened earth denotes
the place where graves
mother, father, first love
overgrown with cacti
stained and rain-washed
carved inscriptions, silent now
in the wind of passing years
To sleep, perhaps to dream
the poet said – these words
this pen, like fragile blue flowers
groping above a wall
© Johnmichael Simon
2013
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