Other names for peony

Day 8–write based on inspiration from (a flower? flowers? flora?) I’ve been trying to write poems quickly since I think part of the exercise is to just write more, and freeflow rather than write too carefully, calculatedly. Minimal (read: almost none) rechoosing of words and editing on this one.


I flower in embarrassment at you. I
burst into flame. I would call it
a peony but you insist rose. I guess
it might seem petty to argue about this.
The dandruff blossoms spark
and sift down to the open
willow, the pond. A dashing figure,
a leaves-changing-color kind of
mood. Broken blankets. Opened
brackets. Wouldn’t it be nice
to feel lonely once in a while.

I’ve fortunately forgotten the flour–
so I can give myself an excuse to forget
about baking. Back to eating odorless
rice it is. Spiceless, spineless dolt. I
tried really hard to let you in. Buddy,
you were budding before I even saw
you. I couldn’t look away. It stayed
smoldering like an almost dead
charcoal at the bottom of the pile.
If I masticate this piece one last
time will it (actually) tell me
one thing. Only roses know.


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