Today's poem is by Okla Elliott
The Patience of the Land Mine
Weeds grow over rusty death
in a field no crops
but many flowers
will populate. The land mine dreams
the sweetness of a child's foot
or a dog's paw to depress
its small detonator, dreams
the echoing boom
and the wet bloom of meat and bone.
It dreams its dream for years, decades,
does nothing but dream,
and never grows tired.
Copyright © 2015 Okla Elliott All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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