Myself with the daisy chains that had once
Lain against bare legs on the grass
Hidden in my secret park,
With their yellowing faces
That turned towards the light
As their linked tails curved gracefully
Around my sun-fired head.
I suppose I have entangled
Myself with the quiet vines which
Grew upon the trellis my mother carefully stowed
Behind the chimney spewing nonexistent smoke,
Their arrowhead tops twisting around
The frame placed to snare them.
I think I've trapped
Myself in the ratted weeds
Living in the unkempt backyard which survives only for my dog
While he plays behind the bushes of
Unoriginal flowers not requiring a name-
For it will be unoriginal too.
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