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Flaneur with Scissors

Sunburst bloom
                    marble leaf
                petal frill—a flower of many flowers
                                  I couldn’t name 
                                          from our garden
                                                      grown of many gardens
                                          my grandmother foraged.
                         She’d say, everything that reaches			
                                                    beyond the fence is free. 
      We walked together hooking arms,
                                  her hands resting at her back, 
                     & in her grip, 
                                       a pair of scissors.
            My grandmother took from the low dirt,
                                              from peripheral paths, from pots
                                  that lined entranceways,	
            & I was an embarrassed child
                                              who called her thief.