Bull Hawking


She Pruned


She pruned on our gardenia bush
I knew that it would die
She did it in the name of tidiness
I felt tired down to my wheels

I thought of all the nights of love
under aromatic spells
she thought of broken toilets
and nighttime slop-jar spills

Gardenias have a pure white look
an almost fleshly feel
but prunes are brown and shriveled
like the constipated prune she is

Submitted: Sunday, August 24, 2014

Topic of this poem: afterlife


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