The Attention Span of Flowers
Cheryl Snell
 
To prove that beauty is not only found
in the object most often touched, the woman
plucked a bloom from a brick. The splay
of roots quivered, the blossom folded in
on its slim green neck.

She hadnít counted on that. She fisted
the sprawl of petals, listing as if in a vase,
and pictured the man who liked her undone,
fingers stained by the spiky yellow head
sliding between them.

A button misfed to a hole. A guarantee
that every move thereafter would be wrong.
 


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