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Aspen Welsch Feb 2019
When you snap a dry twig
you'll find a star inside.
White within beige in brown bark.
No, really. Have you ever looked?
Helicopter seeds have waxed, peel-able layers.
Dandelions have bumps, fossa, tails.
Pick them. Find the white sap oozing out.
Did you ever roll a bug?
Did you ever see another's fluorescent glow?
Remove an acorn hat next fall.
Remember that creamy, perfect nugget and roll
it over in your fingers. Pretend you're a squirrel.
Examine butterfly dust under the microscope
of your spring season soul.
Fold a thick line of crab grass between two thumbs.
Listen to your music, composer.
Where do ants get their perfectly identical pebbles?
Stacked so professionally into tiny, *****, domes.
Have you ever looked?
Aspen Welsch Feb 2019
I run to you
racing cautiously
   slow     motion     into
                                         your arms
hoping against my fear
that maybe this time
my seeking has led me
Aspen Welsch Feb 2019
I might get caught up in your mind
I might unwind my string
and outstretch my being
to float with you, to let you fill up
my paper wings, my origami heart
I might take flight and let you
fly this kite, if only
you pull me in easy, keep me steady
I might follow where you lead
if you give me the freedom I need
to be colored beautiful
against a high, blue sky
to be me, shaped perfectly for you to see
Aspen Welsch Feb 2019
I did it for myself.
I shed you and a little bit extra.
Like a snake peeling back
layers of you and me.
Our crusted scales scattered
across uncertainty.
Is your newness raw?
Is it untouchable?
Aspen Welsch Feb 2019
Stop looking at me
as if I’m some
- thing
to swallow up
or spit out.
A berry, black, swollen
ready to be chosen for your
consumption. I sour on your
tongue, assaulting your
taste buds because you
thought the only
- thing
that mattered was the purplish black,
the juice that produced for your
pleasure, my ripe, plump bumps,
my green hands
outstretched ready and there, for you?
Still you pluck and **** and stare
and **** me up with your
barren compliments stripping
my sweet substance
one by one
by one, you
extract it out
of me
Aspen Welsch Feb 2019
Pluck my legs off.
Ouch. Are you happy now?
Keep me helpless, wondering.

See my inner glow flying overhead
blinking for a new lover.
Capture me. Then smear my hope
across your sidewalk.
I’ll be the paint on your
narcissist, concrete canvas.

Maybe just keep me in a jar
******* that air hole. Tight and choking.
If I light up will you
poke another?
Hold onto the side looking
through glass until I fade.

I remember what you said.
I didn’t want to live anyway.

— The End —