The Silk Flower Aisle In Michael's Craft Store (or: Perception)

August 26, 2011
A most peculiar sort of detachment, I 
toddled like a child, reached like a child,
perceived this hellish wonderland as only 
a child could. Stepped one unsteady
foot in front of the other, inhaling 
from silk and plastic the most 
I've ever imagined.
Like brushing a butterfly's powder 
wing I brushed petals of fire, of auburn
and gold and taupe, my fingertips ingested their essence, came
with the life synthetic pistils 
and stamens could not hold 
ultraviolet lights poisoned my view,
the end of the aisle opened like an
earthworm's greasy maw,
icing tips and sketchbooks and ribbon
consuming a beauty that could only
in my mind's transfiguring eye.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback