| Photo credit: benhur from morguefile.com |
You can’t eat near me, conceded the lilies.
I turn even the wine in your mouth.
The babouche of my anthers would paprika your tofu.
I’m chrysanthemums’ antithesis.
I am not the darling of Autumn.
But hexa-petalled, I am the bad javelin of the future
come to you all unraveling.
~ Ange Mlinko
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