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71 The Wildflowers Last night my love brought me wildflowers and as we lay together in the easy dark I heard them leave the vase, and move around the house. When I woke, my love was gone, the flowers watched me walk from room to room. They followed me with a wet-dry sweep and shuffle that was something like my own breath, never close never within reach. I couldn’t get near them, they curled if I faced them or turned out their clear barbs to warn me off. now they are drinking at the sink. The light begins to rust on the sill and I know, as I watch them push each other out of the stream, they are preparing for night’s second ceremony, the hunt. ...

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