Caught,
\nInescapably dreaming in some other half-deserted mind,
\nThere were only flowers for graves.
\nFlowers for weddings and flowers
\nFor the sick were almost gone now.
\nThere were no flowers. Plants had fallen to the
\nSame whims and lusts that had themselves fallen.
\nAs parasitic vines that kill their hosts and then must
\nDie themselves, these whims and lusts had
\nKilled their hosts, but I dare not say those desires had died.<\/p>\n
There was a window, bright and clear,
\nBearing the hoarfrost of another morn.
\nAnother evening’s leftovers, in a leftover world
\nWhere little is left behind.<\/p>\n
(This little girl’s doll had no new dresses,
\nNo hair, no doll’s house.)<\/p>\n
The air, rank and cold: I’d smelled that air before,
\nIn some other dream I chose to forget.
\nSometimes the chosen path is not the same path followed.
\nThen I remembered, all too vividly,
\nWhat was missing.<\/p>\n
Missing: not to be seen through frosted windows,
\nNot to be seen in streets or meadows.
\nThe churches lay dormant, schools empty.<\/p>\n
Like some far historic monument to a dream
\nYet to come, buildings, too tall, stood in silent and somber repose;
\nBridges traversed gaps that were not to be crossed,
\nVehicles that should never have moved on earth
\nWhistled in the stark wind that blew threw them.<\/p>\n
In barren streets there could be none found,
\nNone in the sun that gives it,
\nNone in the air that makes it.<\/p>\n
(This little girl’s doll had none either)<\/p>\n
There weren’t any flowers, either.<\/p>\n
The doll stood in mute mockery of
\nWhat once was: little girls,
\nLittle babies,
\nWhat could have been people.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Caught,
Inescapably dreaming in some other half-deserted mind,
There were only flowers for graves.
Flowers for weddings and flowers
For the sick were almost gone now.
There were no flowers. Plants had fallen to the
Same whims and lusts that had themselves fallen.
As parasitic vines that kill their hosts and then must
\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1059","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems","category-social"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1059","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1059"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1059\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1060,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1059\/revisions\/1060"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1059"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1059"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1059"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}