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Poetry – “The Bay Laurel”

I cannot flood the grains of this dead tree
with the same mastery you use to create Sapphics,
My trunk left sapless, dull, and flaking,
Dry clichés chalk my otherwise flowing casual
and lyrical stiffness hovers over me, dead,
Creaking hand forces over unrespiring skin,
Forever in search of the elbow angel,
Vibrancy paints the external features,
But fervourless, fervourless~