Mother Is The Name For God
She tried planting jade flowers
But got a single lotus instead.
You poured sugar in your open wounds
Because she said it would make you sweeter.
She rearranged your veins
And left you for dead
While you were burning,
Stitching your gash with velvet thread.
Thrown in the dirt by your creator,
The rain only made you grow.
She put you to rest with her dreams,
But your blood mixed with the soil
Birthing a thorn bush who could only seethe.
Her mother must have bitten into her when she was unripe
And spit out the seeds.
Have You Seen Her
She was last seen writhing
In a marigold sundress at the subway.
Described as frail and ephemeral,
I liked her better in my head.
One witness swears
He walked past her on Sunday.
He said she was alone,
There was no way she was dead.
She was rinsing out her poppy hair
Yet it was never raining.
With her cotton mouth and busted lip
She carried delicacy like a child.
A man with champagne hair says she was convulsing,
Another says she was laughing and smiling.
Her huddled parents describe her as normal,
And I can tell they are certainly lying.
Brittany Welch is an English major and Communication/Women’s & Gender Studies double minor residing in Louisville, KY. She has a love for all things horror and spends a majority of her free time with her cat, Willow. You can find her on instagram.