wilting bouquets
at a gravestone
we are keen to point out the
spinach
in your teeth
flashing our own in mockey
there are graveyards in our closets
unmarked tombstones rattling
under each breath
& still we find humor in
your lack
grow vines of resentment at
your affluence
we were once all planted
in the same soil
not our fault yours
had shade
not our fault yours
wasn't watered
we shout as we
s t o m p
on your leaves and pluck petals
off your stems
and yet you
bloom
through the cracks of pavement
your florets blossom
amidst sand
not our problem
we whimper from our manicured lawns
a dog ****** on me today.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC