DAHLIAS UNDER FIRE
By Amanda Deutch
How did you know dahlias would appear so often?
always in the dirt
bending televisions broken murmurs
stumble over blind bodies lying on concrete, pedestals, cowboys
in questionable pockets
maps of night masked in
dubious outstretched arms
form shadows misleading
rivers
pull out
a gasp
dubious outstretched arms full of dust bunnies
almost religious in their purity
soaked interrogation
mother spilling blood, spitting axes
uprooting
nothing
dahlias, magenta under fire
simmer on the vacant stove
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