The Raging and Consuming War of The Poetics

Part VII (Introduction to the red poppy field)

The mines are buried,
scattered discreetly
in a beautiful red poppy field;

and because red oozes through
the pores of my skin,
I find myself walking through this field
without hesitation or fear.

I ache to smell the poppies;
roll around in their essences,
pure delight to escape the rocky trail
I have walked upon for years;
I think I have lived all my life to roll around
in the poppy field – letting its beauty deceive me;
like all things beautiful, there must be looming danger..

– Michellia D. Wilson 8/23/14 2 PM

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