In a blue-eyed meadow a
Tattooed, petrified flower
Boorish
Exiles in the fog
Hide from the rays of sunlight
Frightened of the yellow of a leaf
The unavoidable city’s bridge shoots
A white smile
At the skirt-hiking, knife carrying fugitives
Who trust in the white of the eyes
From broken tears of those
Who have stumbled on petrified flowers
The flustered waves murder flowery gardens
A black chamomile hunkers down
On the back seat of a carrige
Anonymous tissue conceals her fragrant petal
A film rolls on the ceiling
And she, laid back, stares at the friendly massacre
On the inclined, shattered
Stone flower covered hills
