15 Victory - Poem by Saiom Shriver
A champion racehorse at the winning line, unattached, eating the
blooms of his victory wreath
Wishing order he'd been a cuthappy lust-er but entranced by tiger
lilies' lustre he began to leave alone God's surprising little clusters
The iced sculpture fish has melted into his completing water.
The apple tree's blooms spun by sun looms dropped for fruit to make
room.. swept away by wind broom
The conductor must choose between the proferred bouquet and
the baton, between the past and the future.
A white heron flock flies across the jade cypress swamp canvass. A
script of winged words triumphant.
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