The Territorials
Are training between the library
And the Florists.
Khaki braided women and tall
Broad shouldered men running
And ducking, circuit training with
Lick-of-spit-black-shine-boots kicking
Sound
from the stones.
There is history on one side in the manuscripts and
leather bound tomes
Death and marriage to the other in ribbon and stamen,
In the fleshy fist of petal.
These soldiers in training lift
weights
As if they were flowers.
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Love this poem. Read beautifully xo
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