under glass

under glass
finger traces
this slow, loping curve
to press this fragile limit
with my palm
i wondered,
in my longing
to shatter this glass dome
if i have over looked
freedom’s responsibility
arranging a crushed rose
so the sunlight won’t
fade the coloured silk,
neatly creasing folds
to preserve the petals’ form
having forgotten the material illusion
that reveals a dying flower
desperate for water


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