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Stained Flowers
The red-spattered violet flowers glistened-
not with dewy droplets that frost the leaves at dawn,
not with rain that had trickled though the brush last dusk,
but rather with a substance
brighter & warmer than a cloud’s creation.
No, this shower came from a storm of
rage and devotion.
The gardener lashed out,
like and overprotective mother guarding her young.
And there lie that stealing and mischievous rabbit-
murdered and rotting.
And the gardener cursed the breeze
for staining her flower bed.
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