Monday, November 13, 2017

WORDS ON A PAGE

Picture—
distilled artesian
room temperature water

in a smooth
and smudgeless
blue-rimmed glass

packed tight with the severed
stems of carnations, limpid
bloodless vampires.

This is a sign
at its purest: idealized,
sacrificed in-advance

on your behalf, transferred
to your possession
without your having asked.

Perhaps
you can reckon,
but you just can't

argue with
a present like that. There, now—
do you still want it?

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