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Copyright © 2003 By Miriam Axel Lute

 

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Miriam Axel Lute

June 2003

"FLOWER SHOP" | "DECAYING MORAL FABRIC"

 

FLOWER SHOP
 

Open 24 Hour

 

What business does

a sidewalk florist get

 

in the hours furthest from

Wall Street’s midday frenzy?

 

Forgive-me bouquets from stockbrokers

who stayed in the office until 1am, again?

 

A sprig of eucalyptus for a cabbie

who wants to neutralize the lingering breath of bar-flies?

 

Or maybe nothing.

Maybe the sign is

 

just good for business –

people buying flowers at rush hour

 

are attracted to the image: the stalwart

of the sleepless city

 

standing under a 2-foot overhang

in the midnight rain

 

his only company the roses

he is steadily denuding

 

until they are

buds again.

 
 
DECAYING MORAL FABRIC
 

1 Emperor’s Old Clothes

 

I heard on the radio today

five times

about our decaying moral fabric.

 

Our politicians have been busy

taking the wool sweaters of their

childhoods out of storage

 

They weep and wail

imploring us to look at the

moth holes and bullies’ tears.

 

I don’t see any holes.

To me they just seem

outgrown.

2 A Vision

 

Good sweet decay

long overdue

I shall shout for joy

when you come

 

Then the leather belts

that have beaten the fear of

God and each other

into generations

will soften into mush

 

Then the elastic in a thousand

girdles will disintegrate

into breath and womanly curves

 

Holes will grow in widening ripples throughout the rugs

that gay teens and unorthodox families

have been swept under

until they step out and stand tall among us

 

The curtains of shame

drawn across black eyes

and bruised hopes and I can’t

leave and this is private business

will hang in unmendable tatters

with the sunlight streaming through.

 

Pinocchio patches of mold will spread

across the expensive suits of preachers

one for every deceit, every mistress, every prideful judgment of their neighbors

 

When the clock strikes midnight

the designer labels will fall off

every blouse, tie, and handbag

and the doormen and the police

will no longer know who belongs.

 

Welcome decay

Without you death never gets

turned into life again.


 


Copyright © 2003 By Miriam Axel Lute

 

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