yesterday, i bathed in paint stripper

i scrubbed away my floral facade,
all the murals covering my face
to show you the truth of my body,
my gnarled and twisted roots,
but you were disgusted
by the dirt stains
and beetles skittering
between my creases
so i tried tattooing
bouquets onto my limbs
to cover all my scars
so you’d reconsider
not planting me in
your yard

queer phototropism

when i stroke your face,
petals blossom from my fingers

we bloom
into a garden of violets and lilacs

our breath whispers into the meadows
of our intertwined bodies

causing every stem to sway, bend
and braid with one another

the watcher of my body

i am only the observer
to the blanketing gardens
that cover my thighs,
never the gardener, my hands
not steady enough
to plant seeds nor saplings
i turned my body over
to the queen, the bumblebees
so they might pollinate me,
make flowers from my skin,
pull honey from my diseased body,
bring me into their hive
and have their larvae feast upon
the poems i never wrote, the history
i never told, the flowers
i never had the courage to name.
Day 13 of Na/GloPoWriMo

i planted Texas wildflowers

i planted Texas wildflowers

along the insides of my thighs
and soft skin of my stomach,
grown bluebonnets on my forearms
while Indian paintbrushes bloomed red
down my nose,
pink evening primroses sprawled
across my cheeks, brown eyed susans
flowered on the ends of my eyelashes,
soft blackfoot daisies blanketed my breasts
and tiny yellow tickseeds
sprouted between my toes

my body became a field,
covered in roots and blossoms,
and bathed in thunderstorms
and pollen until
it no longer resembled
limbs nor skin, forgetting
all thought and remembrance
of what was once my name
Day 14 of Na/GloPoWriMo

The titles of poems I would have written you

I named every flower after you
Your name grows gardens in my ears
I bathed you with sweet basil
You wore a crown of hydrangea petals

Forget me not in the foxglove fields
I lined my bed with snowdrop blossoms and prayed today
Turmeric tea is forbidden in houses of mourning
I stopped writing poems about flowers

Day 3 of NaPoWriMo

Prompt: Today, we challenge you to try this out yourself by writing a list poem in which all the items are made-up names


I’ve been planting flowers in my nail beds,
but they keep dying
because I can’t stick to a consistent
watering or hand washing schedule
or remember to eat,
so I’ve been spending all my time at the nursery,
hiding between the marigolds and bluebells,
hoping someone will confuse me for greenery
and plant me in their garden
or at least in a pot on their windowsill.


Day 2 NaPoWriMo