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The Marigold -
© 2013 Preston Palmer


I
In a garden, full of grace,
bouncing in the sunlight,
reflecting our human spirit.

II
It smells like this:
My mom tells me
that it keeps the bugs away.
And the bunnies will stay away from the tomatos.

III
Put into corners of 4 like
a box, a prison.

IV
Orange and yellow are colors,
the next, says the spectrum,
is green.

V
The springtime brings me raindrops
and warm soup by the window,
where I watch
and the snow melts.

VI
I live in the city, a place of men and cars.
I do not get to see the leaves and the flowers.

VII
There are people that live in
Forests. They live off of wood smoke
and rain smells.

VIII
Friends hold close to eachother
in cold water.

IX
Almost, by the end, it falls apart
into particles and black dust.

X
Each of us is held together by a tiny ribbon,
we stay in a circle.

XI
Fallen in mud and forgotten, dark
black sky, grey air from the streetlight
across the chain-link fence.

XII
The stop sign one block before I am home,
almost there,
close enough to practically be there,
but not enough to feel it.

XIII
Regret,
an ending that lasts infinity.
The smile you can never really reach,
at the end of the long tunnel.