On the Counter Sits the Carnations: ‘how do you bust the clouds, head on the ground and feeling what you’ve seen’ – i&w

on the counter sits the carnations
from a friend to a friend
just waiting to die
mostly,
though, sure,
they are enjoyed until then,
at some time,
we must judge them
too wilted, too weak,
the lavender color of their veins
run dry,
and they are tossed.
But were it up to them – I wonder
how long they’d hang on,
blood about their stems
as if to say, We Live,
or as if despite their wilted state,
they lie with hope,
knowing that
the hardest thing to depart
is themselves.

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