Finally Injured

What you did not know 
was the resilience 
of tulips. 

The riots start 
in colors, earnestly. A violent 
outburst of the theme of surrender 
before dawn. 

You kiss the irises, 
blue, violet and crimson 
for nominalism. 

The vision emboldens- 
the wounds, the slit throats- 
to come again for guillotine. 

A sliding blade 
with promise to kill, 
will not move.