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Sunday, June 14, 2009

Red

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Bees can’t see me.

I’m left to the bats and wind
butterflies and birds

pollinated, pierced, made to tremble
and like it.

Say I do.

Say that I actually prefer the wind to you— indeed,  I am only ready anyway

when breezes come up from the south, so there’s no harm; I’m no injured party.

I planned nearly every encounter with music and wine—the way wisteria sways.

A dance so natural, I nearly forgot I was human.



Oody Petty is a Wisconsin poet. She teaches English and Ethnic Studies at the University of Wisconsin—Milwaukee.
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