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Bird of paradise

When I was a child I would often lie

and say that my favorite flower was

a Bird of Paradise. A cute faux pas.

“What a peculiar choice!” strangers cry,

half interested in my quaint belie

of the kinds of petals that give me pause.

I promise no ill-content was the cause,

and it’s true those striking plants caught my eye.


Why would I lie about something so small?

The gall to boast some kind of perspective.

In truth, I had no perspective at all.

I didn’t even have an objective 

but to hide an inner self so banal--

claiming any favorite was fictive.



 
 
 

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1 Comment


“…half interested in my quaint belie

of the kinds of petals that give me pause…” 🤌 | Additionally, your color choice & symbolism of this artwork w/ the poetics is fantastic. Excellent work.

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