reaching, folding into the pink,
the coral, the everlasting violet
and yellow turning smiles at the sky,
hand stemming, leafing, vining
around interlopers and slipshod silver
birch bark, adjusting, fluffing, sculpting life
into a form her mind takes, then
pushes up, through the heavy loam
that settles on her bones sometimes
with a damp, mossy ache and
paints her brow with stripes of clay,
which mingle with her salt and soothe
the tenderness her flowers awake
in her faint and furrowed heart
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
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