Scatter My Path With Flowers
By Samara Gerstle
After Alan Seeger
The dull and droll nights peck my thoughts
with whispers of insecurity. My mouth
oscillating, the air sponging up the wet
vapor, twisted and turned to rain over
the heads, drenching hairs until
they shine and inflate and look like wires.
I have thought about the lichen,
the hops of songbirds toward the flowers.
I’ve felt the green sweetness of nectar
cut dry tracks in my throat. The tease
Of pollen tickling the corners of my eyes.
This hole in the ground carries me
there, down to the path of petals,
scattering.
The Trinity Review 