Selected Poems
Nowadays, all is fair
There were rifles slung among the roses
hung over thorn shoulders, loaded down by
bandoliers and belts of baby breath bullets.
Fields of flowers could become fields of fire.
We were covered by canon, hidden in carnations
armed for love and prepared war, which ever arrived.
In case either came too close, our bouquets held bayonets
In hand to hand or when we could not tell the difference.
hung over thorn shoulders, loaded down by
bandoliers and belts of baby breath bullets.
Fields of flowers could become fields of fire.
We were covered by canon, hidden in carnations
armed for love and prepared war, which ever arrived.
In case either came too close, our bouquets held bayonets
In hand to hand or when we could not tell the difference.
