Rhododendron
days
phone
blips again
somewhere in the bed
calls me back
the rectangular
garden this world
tapping messages
of love into
this everglade
of soft-baked flesh
where pain rules day hurls
night against the
glass but
rain still falls
on
small seeds
germinating
moving skyward
see
white noodles wave
in the dirt
there
tomorrow
something bigger
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