Page 39

Bouquet

Bursting anemones fed with nitrogen and dung; She brought them homehave toShe brighten up the kitchen; Simon andglaucous Garfunkel should written you a song. brought them home to brighten upand thedung; kitchen; Stiff, sucks through thirsty veins; Bursting anemones fed with I watchsleep theirstem petals fall water onto the counter, wilting. I watch their petals fall ontonitrogen thewritten counter, wilting. Theythey neither nor dream, nor fuck, nor grow; Plump globules ofsleep oranges, reds, whites, lay as dormant amoebas waiting toyellows, dehydrate. Simon andtheir a song. They neither norshould dream, nor noryou grow; they simply drinkglobules moisture from bowl. hundreds ofGarfunkel leafy fingers bendhave infrom allfuck, directions. Darkness descends atthe thetheir flipofof a switch; Plump yellows, oranges, reds, whites, they simply drink the moisture their bowl. their fingerless palms are tossed into compost. They neither sleep nor dream, nor fuck, nor grow; They neither sleep norofdream, nor fuck, noringrow; their hundreds leafythe fingers bend all directions. they simply drink the moisture from their bowl. simply drink thewater moisture from their bowl. Stiff,they glaucous stem sucks through thirsty veins; Darkness descends at the flip ofthirsty a switch; Stiff, glaucous stem sucks water through veins; they as dormant amoebas waiting to dehydrate. Shelay brought them home to brighten up the kitchen; their palms are waiting tossed into the compost. they layglobules asfingerless dormant amoebas to dehydrate. Plump ofwilting. yellows, reds, whites, I watch their petals fall onto the counter, Bursting fedoranges, with nitrogen and dung; theirSimon hundreds ofanemones leafy fingers bend in all directions. and Garfunkel should have written you a song.

Jonathan Stone

Plump globules of yellows, oranges, reds, whites, their hundreds of leafy fingers bend in all directions. Stiff, glaucous stem sucks water through thirsty veins; they lay as dormant amoebas waiting to dehydrate. They neither sleep nor dream, nor fuck, nor grow; they simply drink the moisture from their bowl. She brought them home to brighten up the kitchen; I watch their petals fall onto the counter, wilting. Bursting anemones fed with nitrogen and dung; Simon and Garfunkel should have written you a song. Darkness descends at the flip of a switch; their fingerless palms are tossed into the compost.

Poetry Volume 42

37

Sanskrit 2011  

Sanskrit is UNC Charlotte's nationally recognized, award winning literary-arts magazine. It is published once a year, in April. Sanskrit is...

Sanskrit 2011  

Sanskrit is UNC Charlotte's nationally recognized, award winning literary-arts magazine. It is published once a year, in April. Sanskrit is...

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