15 Victory Poem by Saiom Shriver

A champion racehorse at the winning line, unattached, eating the
blooms of his victory wreath
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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
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The iced sculpture fish has melted into his completing water.
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The apple tree's blooms spun by sun looms dropped for fruit to make
room.. swept away by wind broom
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The conductor must choose between the proferred bouquet and
the baton, between the past and the future.
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A white heron flock flies across the jade cypress swamp canvass. A
script of winged words triumphant.