like a delicate
flower,
though she is neither
delicate nor a
flower,
her bloom full of thorns
for the unwary,
they keep her safe
as exotic as the place she flew to
to escape
now must return to a place
thick with the starkness of reality,
trading fuming volcanos
for cancer-spewing
smoke stacks,
the gray shroud over
a stark skyline
she had assumed beautiful
until she saw what is really beauty
in the high reaches of the tropics
she must leave,
this journey to this
remote place
to put distance between what is
and what should be,
the intensity of heat
a pale reminder of what
she had once and can’t get back,
no matter how far she flees
she must always
return,
like a bad penny
stuck in the guts of
a supermarket coin
machine,
she can’t even spend
it on anything,
and must be absolved to keep it.
No comments:
Post a Comment