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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1636027
This poem came runner up in the Oxford Brookes Poetry Prize in the connections category.
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I thread each stem

With careful precision.



Tongue on my lip

Eyes bright, attentive

My busy fingers

Make deep slits in their pretty necks

Until the juice

Secreting

Dyes my fingertips

As green as my knees.



Barefoot in the soil

Toenails, dirt-caked

Burrow,

Seeking a pebble

To stop them from sinking.



I watch them fall

Spiralling

One by one

A blur of colour

Heads splitting

Petals exploding,

Broken.



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I thread each precious stem

With careful precision.

© Copyright 2010 Hetty Kitson (imogen_cr at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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