of: Childhoods

as a child, i was told

you were born with something broken in you

so i grew backwards into the ground

and bloomed, suffocated

in the darkness, where my roots

could find no hold

naked and reversed

exposed to the wind

but still forgotten, making it easy to see:

where there should have been petals

only nodules, thirsty and twisted, grew

with a seething, knotted rage

so that even now

fallen logs, sweet with moss and decay

are my only guideposts

though sometimes

if i am lucky

a child will pick me up - then apart

in big-eyed glee

at what they might think is

a sturdy treasure

but is brittle

at the touch of

their dirty, dry hands

and every time

i whisper to them

(though i want to shout)

rise up and grow

until your roots reach the center of the earth

until you reach the sky on the other side

Grow

until you break something

“as flowers might” - published in-print by West Trade Review, 2019