Original Sin Man
By Poetry Issue 70
Embarrassed by the awe he felt as a boy touching a mimosa shut along the vein, tiny leaves blinking into supplicant palms, the man came to understand that astonishment. Beyond vegetable with a reflex— didn’t venus flytrap also clamp, and don’t sunflowers turn?— he grasped the aesthetics of mimosa’s fruitless act, effect which refused its…
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