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Death in the time of flowers            

 

 

Death unlike other callers

has an uneven gate, a maze like path

in its Dali-clock time keeping.

When you try to slam the door

he rolls out of reach magic mercury,

slips around back unseen

finds, a dry, quiet corner

to practice patience.

 

If only i had listened

to the melody of marigolds

i would have heard echoes

of his invisible footprints

realized he had moved

into my basement apartment

with no date on vacancy

no forwarding address but mine.

 

© Sharon Lopez Mooney, “Death in the time of flowers”, originally published in The Phoenix, ed. Louisa Parrish,. Western North Carolina, USA 2023

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