Alex Antonopoulos, All that’s white


Can a wounded man touch a flower’s head?
Yes, I think he can.
It runs, of course, between the fingers and the petals;
its smell blocks the flower’s scents;
its color converts all that’s white on that flower –
Let me start again.
Look, a wounded man can -he is allowed- to touch a flower’s head.
Our fellow priests consider this to be God’s pity. They are not wrong.
Our fellow poets agree with the priests: Yet of another truth they talk.
Feel the liquid as it bathes the silk. Breathe the warm odor.
Don’t you get it yet?
The poets have been whispering it all along.
Flowers are more beautiful
when soaked in blood’s bloody red.

*For more poems by Alex Antonopoulos, please visit:

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