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Petals of Fire
Perfidious aroma
I bleed upon the panorama
And kneel before your thorns
In your loins, to be rubbed in
My distant and fictive
Pliant garden queen
Because the severe verity
In my coiled subterfuge
Is that in my reclusion
I yearn to be saved and hauled
By a pensive flower
With flaming petals
In a fictive plane
With virulent juices
I do not even care
You can take my blood
I will haplessly pawn it
For an ounce of honesty
And of love.
Yes, I grovel and plea,
Before your incineration,
Nonexistent flower
Blossoming inferno
I will make a heaven
In the bed of your petals.
poem
by
Norman Santos
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