drip trays full of rosewood oil
are poisoning the peace lilies
as the sunlight also poisons
them
chained as they are to the
outside
and to that deathly perfume –
temporary fences raised
patio battle lines drawn
papers pulped under hot water
balled between unclean fingers
borne by ill-conceived winds
urging one way urging her
on her knees down the glistening
stairs
down the sparsely-grassed
embankment
down the sunken river banks
down the roots of thirsting
trees
to the turbid, lovelorn depths
of the rosewood oil waters –
floating on the surface, four
pairs of Lucite insect wings
one pair of breathtaking legs
- pushed and pulled like tractor
gears
poisoned red by the sunlight -
that someone better ought to care for.
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