Dry earth splits with repulsion
There is a paradox in the crying shame that a dehydrated cell forgets how to soak
It’s a crying shame that any devil can conceive and awakening
I’m comparing swelling to an eviction
There is a paradox to—
I never wanted an open plot until one was thrust upon me
I watched an orchid blossom beneath the hem of my skirt
And I’ll tell you what
It’s in the petals unfurling that I fall in love
A tendril scrapes me clean
And, I do
I fall in love
I am the chasm
I am the crimson rush we love to forget
I am in love with the building up of an
Until all I want is open plots
Twelve summers can tarnish the bed
And I’ll tell you what
A finger buds slower than an atrium
I water the blooms with a blood-letting
Next summer, there’s always next summer
And still the new orchids weep
Emily Perkovich is from the Chicago-land area and the Editor in Chief of Querencia Press. Her work strives to erase the stigma surrounding trauma victims and their responses. Her piece This is Performance-Art was a finalist for the 50th New Millennium Writings Award and she is a 2021 Best of the Net nominee. She is previously published with Cathexis Northwest, Coffin Bell Journal, and Awakened Voices among others. She is the author of the poetry collection Godshots Wanted: Apply Within and the novella Swallow. You can find more of her work on IG @undermeyou
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