On life and its vagaries

The Vase On Display

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The Vase On Display

The latticed bell metal

Turns a moon face towards the plastic stalks

Synthetic roses bloom in colors harsh.


Perched near the window sill

The vase rules these tepid times

Its loud as a launderette

Lewd as the false moon


Buried even deep in earth

Its flowers share no requiem.

As unearthed

They revive brandishing their silken glare

As in some snake god’s cataleptic trance


We spray them with our torpid taste

Tend them  with lurid pride

The vase remains staid, dangerously made

The receptacle non esthete


This is Vase cum laude

Of our migratory period

It’s the sum of sensitivity

That we are now equal to 


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