4/8: “blossom, blossom, blossom”

sweet blossoms, what do you abide
here, in the gloom, where sun won’t
shine, impermissible to reveal yourself,
insisting you remain black and white

when you yourself are a prism of
color, of raindrops and teeth and
ringlets and fingertips, grasping wet
fingertips in the storm, reaching,

unfolding, knuckle by knuckle, inch
by bloody inch, to show the world
you are bright, you are who you are,
not an inch otherwise, not what they

think, think hard, dive deeper and
deeper into the pool of yourself, now
an ocean, deeper and deeper, find
your coral reefs, blossoming flower

(you sing the body natural, petal-soft
skin that scratches up red, unfurling
with your eyes. i wish i could jar you up
and keep you so blossomed and sweet always.)

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