when the time comes
i am not ready.
as in,
the ground beneath me is still dew-soft with summer
and i am just barely stretching awake
to a morning not yet frosted over. they grab my stem
(still green) and yank,
muttering words of indignation as my spotted
half-grown body refuses to pull free. serves them right,
i think, and settle deeper into the soil. it's not even halloween.
Posted in response to the challenge Pumpkin.
ugh it's raining again,
i text my best friend when i wake up & look out the window
onto an already gray & gloomy world.
rain rain rain rain rain rain rainy november like all
precisely one year ago i went to school after election day and felt like driftwood in an uncertain sea.
It's cold here, I reply to my grandparents when they ask how our week's going. It's cold, and wet, and already I am helping my friends put up Christmas decorations and string LEDs across their rooms, playing holiday music to try
Comments
I adore the story you have filled in to this short poem. The description of "dew-soft with summer" as the pumpkin is "barely stretching awake" is incredibly life-instilling, and the ending sentence of "it's not even halloween" is such a great ending line. A series of poems like this one, about different food's perspectives, would be wonderful to read!
wow thank you so much!!!!! maybe i will write some more haha :p
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