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Tossed
November 21, 2010
alone
in a basket
surrounded by artichokes
whose leaves are layers
piling up, thickening
pushing them further
and further
from the heart
mistaking themselves
for blooming flowers
I sit
without petals
smiling
knowing something
they don’t know;
knowing
that some day
they will be plucked
and smile too,
or die
rotten.
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