ladle and petal

I left the sonnets in the cupboard
haikus behind the door
pressed flowers like Alfred Prufrock
and left them on the floor

they said:

you are woven gossamer
silk threads in violent dance
I stole for you the moments
I could not leave to chance

in the downfall of a kiss
a diction soonest made
that all the king’s horses
could not have sweeter laid

but you, you dream inspired
unrequited and unresolved
and in the shadow of your thirst
my self in answer called.

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