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.