I am not a flower
about to bloom, nor
one whose petals have fallen.
I am not a flower,
nor is this poem
my prurient confession:
I am not a flower
worn like a corsage,
or draped on coffin tops.
I am not defined
like a bridal bouquet
for I am not a flower.
Flowers are more
than what they are;
I am only what I am.
(July 31, 2018)
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