Been budded Durnnear all my life– When will this be my time To flower? Take Rocco, Scion of scion of setsetera Seed of Earl Who is no Duke– Take Roc with earth Little water Little sun His days tight heads Whole swole unfold So opens the Future Wide in front of him. I am greeneyed with envy Jelly jealous of his full fruit, Wingwhile I wither here on my vine Wilt whither wilt Never having known that petal push; A weed then, say moy, Not so much as baby’s breath. Lately I’ve been thinking A lot about leaving Exile– Tho, where would I go? What do when I got there? Dog rose that I am Graft off the ol’ briar Our sole goal to smile pretty & pierce to the heart.
Water for the wilted, Earl 🖤
“Been budded durnnear all my life — when will this be my time to flower?”
That stayed with me.
There’s something aching and strangely tender beneath all the wild language play here.
Been feeling kind of vulnerable and reflective with my son about to graduate from college
Gorgeous
I love the wild, tangled language in this. Beneath it lies an aching loneliness. <3