Member Poem

Fit overwhelms a small frame
A head departed from its stem
She holds them separate
Mama, don’t you see?
Vibrations of the pain send signals to
Little hands, little petals begin to shake
 
Mama, I don’t understand
Though cut away from its garden
It was whole – its life pulsed in my palm
Mama, I can’t comprehend
Detached, it lays cold,
Limp, it beats no more
 
Chubby cheeks redden, head flies back
As if to cry out to the gods, bring back
the nightingale, let her see what was beauty
and as she’s hypnotized, allow the thorns
to meet her chest, and grow from the floor
where the little girl’s feet meets the tile
replenish, replace what broke