I Wanted Flames. But I Got Flowers.



I wanted flames. But I got flowers.

Everything inside me said make those strokes larger.  Use your whole body.
Mess it the fuck up if you have to, Connie.

Then right when I thought — maybe, that’s enough.

I realized it was flowers that she wanted.
Not a bonfire.
Not another burn it to the ground initiative.
Not what I am used to or what I would have predicted.

I guess I’ve gotten accustomed
to rubbing sticks together
that I never realized that there might be another option.
(That change could actually be less drastic.)

Let it bloom, she whispered.

Let it unfold and unfold and unfold and unfold and unfold and unfold and unfold. 

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