Nov 23
Hannah Campbell's picture

Poppy Song

i. Spin me around;
let go of me and I shall come to in a bed of red flowers.

ii. Ping-pong, the poppies knock their heads together
as the wind, she dances through
her luscious black hair curling around their stems
tickling softly with intention, filling the night with bubbling giggles

iii. but her lily white fingers make them jealous,
and her blood red dress starts their crying shrieks

iv. Oh no, one tiny, freezing seed fell into my mouth
It's a hard cold lump blocking the lung passages

v. Is that hollow crying pain from my tears or the red petals? 
I don't know any longer--
the salty eye water blends with the sky colors
and the stars dance but they shouldn't because they're stars
only you should be dancing, and that's because you're you

vi . She picks me up on her silver, aged wild goose,
the wind, she does, and Mother Goose honks
in a motherly fashion I haven't heard for years.
From anybody.

vii. so spinning around we go and spiraling clouds circle in and out
and I think I've left my body behind, although I don't really know;
an emaciated green body with thin subtle hairs
and blind torpid eyes thar hold no tempest
and spindly fingers
with no love but for a smoking spoon full of morphine

viii. Yum, warm is that memory in my tummy
but it burns my heart and gives an unquenchable itch
and it is so much easier to cling on to my hope, my salvation,
so I do to the molting feathers of that damned dying goose
until we're plummeting and falling, dropping farther than just Earth

ix. the Wind, she just gives a laugh and shakes her head.
she hates me, but then again she hates everyone else too.
she just wants us all to be miserable, I know, as I look at those heartless orange eyes;
because inside is a golden goose, and she doesn't want to share any of its eggs

x. and I'm back again, in that cursed poppy ring.
And those wicked buds, laughing at me too;

why was it that they forgot who wilted them?