
Bouquets
you didn’t expect the glass to break but when it shatters, I bleed violet & sage green glittering hues we once planned for our wedding curled ribbons that pool on our carpet with lilac & vanilla & mint- aromas from the bouquets we selected so carefully- now bloom from my cut, glossy in morning light & there’s no stopping my wound from festering periwinkle ache of you leaving that night when I finally stop bleeding our apartment is a garden- intoxicating, you cannot walk without following into a slumber your eyes locked on mine wide open as you sleep & when you wake I’ll take these extraordinary sorrows, so that you are left in a mundane existence without magic
Donations
prick my finger- watch it bleed gold this is what you wanted room draped with precious tapestries all made from my pain isn’t it dazzling but of course my blood, my gold isn’t enough- you discover my tears drip diamonds & rubies I collect the gems, the gold- I can carry more than you ever could down to a store selling used clothing and let them take my burden until my body is once again mine
Erin Jamieson (she/her) holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Miami University. Her writing has been published in over eighty literary magazines, including a Pushcart Prize nomination. She is the author of a poetry collection (Clothesline, NiftyLit, Feb 2023). Twitter: @erin_simmer & @EJAMIESEE
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