How does one count
The teeth of a laughing lily
Burrow through
The passion of its petals
Pluck every bullet
In the barrel of its pistil
Flick its filament
Which turns on the sun
Like a blooming bulb
Dance through the brown
Dentistry of its drought
Slice the air
With the green sword
Of its leaves. . .
Rinsed by the rain
Its laughter glistens like a vow
Haughticulturally
Present
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