vers de printemps

Published April 6, 2013 by pipsqueak

today i snuck away from the formation
shucking off my regimental blues
my gold epaulets are askew
and the tongue lolls in my black boots
but i am radiant in the drunken morning

i capper through spring mist
whistling birdsong with my scratchy voice
i run my hands through the greenery
ripping out lush handfuls of leaves
twisting the flower stems until
they fray and tumble into my hands

i bruise the petals
with the pads of my fingertips


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