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nicolas huerta
Poems
Aug 2013
The Bones of Flowers
The discount Daisies
are no longer fresh
and the rot continues
on the dining room table.
Stale stalks stir
week old water
like straw skeletons.
Brittle crowns bend,
slouch,
curve skinny blossoms
from a vase.
Petals fall,
crumbs of yellow
and white
wrinkle like
tired confetti.
Lucky flowers,
they got to know your smile,
surprise,
skin,
and fill your fist
like ripe wands.
Written by
nicolas huerta
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