There was a snow that piled up on the green grass
And on the delicate branches of the magnolia trees
The pink blossoms against the white snow
And the grey sky and the black pavement
A poetry teacher told me not to put the word
pavement in my poems
Told me it perverts the perfect natural landscape
Magnolia blossoms and snow should be separate
From square brick buildings and slanted slate roofs.
The snow settled on dandelions burst from cracks in the sidewalk
And slid off daffodils planted along driveways
And pooled around brilliant purple irises growing in strips of lawn
And slid down gutters to water grape hyacinths nestled among rusting patio furniture
In other words: fuck you Peter Filkins.
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