Poetry

Hidden Flowers

It’s time to flower now.

You’ve been waiting a long time, I know.

And it’s scary, revealing who you really are.

 

It is.

 

You don’t know how people will perceive you.

 

They’ll wonder

which you

is really you.

 

Which you

is the one they’ll like most.

 

For those who love the illusion,

your blooms may be devastating.

For those who really want to see you,

your blooms

will be breathtaking.

 

So flower,

true and strong.

Poetry

The Stasis of Soft-scaled Wings

Hanging around beneath the canopy,

your long, green dreadlocks

dangle in the air,

sucking the moisture away from the world.

As you drink, I see the life

return to your slender body,

the colour of your skin

ripens once more

and you rise up,

reaching for humid skies.

Your soft fingers remind me

of silver-white moths

floating on the breeze towards

the light splashing down

from the stars.