Poem by Rebecca Thrush
May 15, 2023
I spent hours in soil Pulled boulders like this bed Wasn’t made of your teeth and silver tongue Each morning brought new lines Like that purple and pruned inch plant Ivy licked at our knees I traded fire for the quietude of torn roots And with every dancing foot we plucked chips Red and weathered They turned on us in seasons unknown We knew the levels were uneven But bulbs kept on flashing Earthen reeds bled into white siding Do the finches know how you’ve stolen their thistle? You seeped the needles into boiled water Purple softer than phenomenal in bloom All the better to stain your linens Before laying down my rusted trowel And as you walked away You left your bruised cloths in my wheelbarrow As if I had been the one To plant your staining petals Thorned tendrils rose up in a muddied green To tear at knees and shins Like a fearful buffer to our soiled reach
About Rebecca Thrush
Rebecca Thrush grew up in central Massachusetts and currently works in property management. When not working she enjoys writing poetry, painting, and creating digital collages.