Thread: Flowers

Flowers

I made justice for tracking a willing, stemmed vein
for you to kiss with a scream.
You blew powder like dandelions on my body.
For a hot wish. For the sake of my baby breath’s womanly death.
You made a place for growing
and for scarring my open skin grafts.

I was rooting in a mattress
where there was snow and other soil.
I liked breathing on needles and when you pulled and picked my pieces.
A good place to get dirty fingers. A good place to be alive.
I am cold while you’re patting me down
and licking me a wet bed.

We will wilt. We can be black and blue elbows and eye socket buds.
We are abusing blooming,
a cataclysm in our cracked hands, cutting us down.
This is a good place for a broken, frozen face,
and buttering love in a cup
for us to make seeds.

Daddy picked flowers for me and braided them
like spines in my hair.
I’d be fertile that winter in the twinge of hard, heroin rain.
We were breathing. Just breathing

in the pollen.

I like this as usual. Same strengths, same weaknesses, I think. Your first sentence was confusing to me. The syntax perhaps. It just seemed a little too difficult to follow.

I'm also not a big fan of the hanging ending. I don't think it's necessary. It adds the pause and creates emphasis, but I don't think it's needed...

My favorite bit:

"This is a good place for a broken, frozen face,
and buttering love in a cup
for us to make seeds."

as usual angel your work is astounding - I actually like the hanging ending makes it a strong ending in my opinion. keep up the good work