Day Three,
and the coral peony
on the kitchen counter
has opened into
another life —
last night, flower
now, half- bird, how
did it cross over, how
does it keep opening —
layer upon layer
of petals feathering
fan-like,
deckle-edged,
a ragged softness
with veins
of Floridian color
running through —
if, in three days,
a cut peony
can turn itself
from fist
to flower
to flamingo,
what isn’t possible
for this balled up heart?
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