even the most beautiful
of beautiful flowers --
but wilt is an eye-trick
in a tryst with time;
as long as gaze is older than gazed
as long as gaze is shaded by love
time conspires to conceal decay
re-name it in an alphabet
of changing hue and texture
as perfumes that grow sweeter
as they lose their baby freshness
and if all this failed
there’s the one redeemer:
a flower that lifts lips
and with one kiss
make poor the thousand kisses
of lips and gaze
received
and as for me
as recipient of poverty-gift
I tell myself:
'you can die now'.
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