i don't want to be a flower
something to be plucked and looked at
i want to be a groundswell, a mighty wave
or a ravenous forest fire
i don't want to be adored
i want to be feared

and i know that sometimes lines of poetry
tumble from my mouth like a forgotten stream
and they get jumbled, the poets mixing together
the space between the words gets smaller
but i truly only want to share something
that even compares to the beauty of you

in her whisper i hear fire
in her screams i hear storms

what were you thinking as
you walked into that lake
with your pockets full of
rocks and a letter for your
husband on the kitchen table?
your mind ate you alive
and there was nothing
anyone could do to stop it
- how i wish i could have stopped it

i think you liked the way
my coronet of flowers was
tilted when i reached the
bottom of your black stone stairs
i think you liked the way i
placed the pomegranate seeds
one
by
one
onto my tongue and whispered
"don't tell my mother"
and i think you liked the way
i walked right up to you
as though you weren't a demon
but a fallen angels wanting to be loved
i smiled
and when you said my name...
that was the beginning and end
of everything

sometimes just to think of you
feels like dying because i believed
we shared a soul
but i had to grow my other half
after you left and the roots are still
sinking into the soil and the flowers,
they haven't fully grown yet,
but one day a garden will flourish
from my body and my mind will be
the sunlight that feeds them
- carranam

sometimes i think that even the flags weep