Dahlias she said

en masse
they weren’t
her kind of flower
so cultivated stiff symmetrical
such vulgar uncoordinated colours
but one late bloom surprised her
with its strange translucent fingers
splayed to catch the sun
a fragile old soul suddenly
not like the dahlias
she’d had in mind
at all

Dahlias by Jean Morris

Jean Morris lives in London, translates from French and Spanish, and thanks the Internet for a latish-life discovery of creative interests. Her recent online work includes an article on Reading in Translation, book reviews at Shiny New Books, translation at the Asymptote blog, photos and poems at Gnarled Oak and poems in Otata.

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