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Click hereJack by the hedge,
garlicky disposition,
clutches flowers of bride's shade,
leaves from love's design.
He tarries,
then blooms along the pickets
to where my door shies,
mat folds its welcome.
His stems never stray,
but gather at my threshold,
uprooting rival paramours.
God, morph my presence
into absence;
Jack's by the door.
copyright d. dixon
02.04.2004
Except for "garlicky disposition" this one is pretty neat and tricky. Reminds me of John Crowe Ransom. Read him, my dear.