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Poetry

the fallen daffodil

10.03.15

 

the grass had usurped the flower bed

so I was given the mighty task of uprooting it all

with my bright yellow hoe

I hacked at the luxurious growths of green hair

aiming just beneath the surface of the soil

their beginnings were a stark white

against the dark brown earth

I chopped and lopped

it was not long before I felt the pain in my fingers

the unaccustomed hurt of a beginner in gardening

and I remembered my grandparents

how they had tended their own garden

how they had managed such labour in old age

how much care had gone into the growth of a single flower

and now I began to murder

beyond my intention

the blade cut into the soft flesh of wriggling worms

and then

when I had all but finished

it swept cleanly into the base of a long daffodil

just in the midst of a bloom

 

the quest for order is a vicious thing

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