Flash Fiction

Henry Darger

Flash fiction the story of my life when I lie
in fields of remembrance I cannot imagine
dandelions submitting to the grasses the way I submit
to terrifying preclusion partially due to the scars,
they remain unhealed, needy child scraped at the
falling fall into mother’s arms,
band aids are not for my undertaking, straps
perhaps made of salvation and courage.

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