My calla lily tendencies of dissimilitude,
My dreaming anthems of the begonia selves;
Token hedgings of nights frantic searches-
Climbing the planks, still-frozen on the shelving.

Daisy-chained oppositions and cluttering friezes,
And violets of grace, amid stuttering treatises;
Everything changes each minute, each day-
Been trying for eons, but forgot what to say.

Wallpapered flowers composing my soul,
Never went deep, for fear of the holes;
Dandelions, Queen's Lace, and everything nice-
But a Ruger- a Luger- if you ever looked twice.