Day Three,

and the coral peony
on the kitchen counter
has opened into

another life —

last night, flower
now, half- bird, how

did it cross over, how
does it keep opening —

layer upon layer
of petals feathering
fan-like,
deckle-edged,

a ragged softness
with veins
of Floridian color
running through —

if, in three days,
a cut peony
can turn itself

from fist
to flower
to flamingo,

what isn’t possible
for this balled up heart?

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