free your flowers

slip in the back door –

midnight back stage –

lights down in shadow.

the thoughts wait

for you to come inside,


among the sullen swallows –

bowed in black feathers,

sticky with strap molasses.

soak in the bitter bite

with the sweetest after

as ability to acknowledge

weights strapped around ankles

were wrapped with help

of our own clamping hands

we can also release them

allowing the velvet curtain

to fly with ivory wings

from our own condemnation

pressed like wildflowers

in the books of our soul


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