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Eternal Flower -- poetry by Sriya Tallapragada

Une, deux, trois, quatre, cinq,

I am tired of counting, seis, sept, huit,

I am tired of conjugating, baiser to kiss, tuer to kill,

My tongue is all tied up in pretty words but it is worth it because

every word in french feels romantic and timeless,

just like the canals and perfect sugar grains that litter the city

Echoey slurs that peel over the city like graffiti,

Here, the hum and heat rocked us to sleep,

Draped in the blanket of infinity bliss

Here, I trade popcorn and perfume with my friends,

Scattering perennial seeds as we walk

Here, if you close your eyes long enough,

You can almost block out the feeling of a slow rolling genocide in your organs,

Unhear the sound of the groaning graveyard,

The pain is trapped in the strands of our hair,

A blistering animal in moonlight,

In the grounds stained red and the dancing ghosts around the chateau

Une, deux, trois, quatre, cinq,

We prefer numbers over daggers,

Hiding where metal can’t reach

Je veux pour toujours continuer a fleurer

If we are lucky, we can bloom under the tangled corpses and dreams

Tout comme une fleur éternelles

Blooming like an eternal flower


Sriya Tallapragada is a 14-year-old social advocate from NJ. She loves exploring the intersection between creative writing. She is a dedicated girl scout and the founder and CEO of GirlsWhoSTEAM Inc., a non-profit to close the gender gap in science, tech, engineering, and math.

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