This morning,
I woke up my garden
by beheading its brown-eyed marigolds,
naked, bowed, dried,
with the sharpened arches
of my thumbnails.
Their blood and spittle,
stained my fingertips--
fragrant with hints, hisses of citrus
and the buried dead.
All day from there on,
I felt their ghosts--
gagging, building, biting beneath
my sky blue nails,
like looming clouds.
So I held my hands
under sink water and
supposed it was summer rain.
I let the old and golden
petals of dreams breathe;
they let out sighs that
smelled even stronger.
So I lifted the keratin skies
as if stripping years from a long life,
like a callous God,
but did not cry before--
My fingers seasoned into stems
upon which new flowers bloomed,
whose heads stir, stir, stirred until
eyes blinked open and
twinkled again.
And all my nose met
was fresh air
this morning.
Molly A. Green is an emerging sophomore from Western Pennsylvania who has been published in her school’s literary journal, Pulp, as well as Crêpe & Penn and The Raven Review. In addition, Molly has recently been awarded a semi-finalist spot in the 2019 Lake Effect National High School Poetry Competition. Through her works of poetry, she uplifts truths as a means of creating a more colorful connection with readers. Other than writing, Molly enjoys drawing graphite portraits of people who inspire her.