on first seeing milkweed pods in autumn

Milkweed pods murdered on the ground,

white rats killed bloodless, small shudder only.

Cold rolling corpses in the dry gutter—

how surprising is the slow shock of

one lone seed swaying recklessly—

the quicksilver-soft breeze,

no pain I can see.

© 2015 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

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