She Pruned Poem by 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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 3:44:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
