A wildflower decided to hold her bloom,

wrapped herself in dense moss and thick

 

caramel sauce in order to protect her naked

costume. Ashamed of her beauty she hid in salvaged

 

storm and pretence adultery. She killed distant toffee

wrappers and kept nutty chocolate bars in the heeled

 

corner of crimson crowbars. Wary of sand

and water catching fire she slept on ice

 

trees and lit fire on bear skins with ancient

brooms. She concealed her moans, egged

 

his grunts, butchered his matchstick and walked

away on crescent moon. Β Years later I stood there mislaid

 

from my thruway, mussed as to why the scent of a

woman still lingered on that forlorn byway.

 

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