Tuesday

If you were to crack my head open, these would spill out

Forgetmenots, judgemenots,
call them what you may,
my linguistic buds

Bloody mannequins
on a mock battlefield
in remembrance

Fruit fly flitting
and living and loving for
two weeks, max

The sun's affections
lost on scholars-
exam week

Outside my window the bird
drags morning out of bed
three hours early

The warm spring breeze
whispers through the curtains
in a thousand languages

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