Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Peony, by Maureen, N. McLane


There’s a woman
walks through me
sits at the table
reading Rumi
You are in your body
as a plant is in the earth
yet you are yes the wind
and she is bending
into the wind her death
and she is a thin tree
and what she never saw
this peony.

Maureen N. McLane, "Peony"

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