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Bonus Poem: Peonies in a Paper Bag

Out of the earth, stems cut,
And into the glass.
A spectacle, a marvel,
A reminder of the
Outside, placed inside.
They dazzled for days
And then one by one
They drooped, stooped over the
Cold, round edge of the
Vase, reaching for the door.
And she said, "It's time,
These must go.
They might delight a few more
Days, but no! Look at this
Single one limping. They must
Go." And into that brown bag
They were buried, without ceremony
Or song, amid napkins and other plastic
Horribles. And that's how
I found them. Heartbroken,
Ruffled like goose feathers,
Waiting to be taken out
Again. To feel the air,
Even if it would be among
The dead and uncompostables, let their feathers
Rest back into the earth
They were clipped from.
"Let us wilt in the place
We call home," they said.
And I just wanted to caress
One - its soft, pink goose feathers -
And tell it that it was the
Most beautiful thing I had
Seen all day.
The most beautiful refuse,
Waiting in the shell of a tree,
In the trash.
And still, I wish
It could spread its goose wings
And feel the late afternoon sun
On those tired petals
One last time.

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