Wildflowers in a cage.
Has fault ever been so ambiguous?
The girls are in white dresses,
and the grass is staining their feet.
Boys in baseball caps
with machinery for hands
don’t know how to touch tenderly.
Do the wildflowers grow strong?
Do they need sticks like broken angels
to hold them upright?
Do they need proverbial whispers
to ward off the enemy?
Do they need cages to grow?
Do the cages grow, too?
To the No-Name Legends 