Thursday, April 22, 2010

National Poetry Month, Day #21: The Rise of the Bougainvillea

The Rise of the Bougainvillea

They stormed the office
like a peasant revolt;

hundreds of bougainvillea,
purple petal pandemonium,
usurping underfoot,
crushing into the carpet.

They rode the cold front,
the winds of change.

They were no match
for the vacuum,
the roto-reaper,
its sanctimonious suction.

Beauty is a frail defense
against the bourgeoisie.

Pile stand triumphant.
Tiles lay clean, blameless.
On the surface, work time
was the only casualty.

The front door is rattled,
fearing another attack.

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