Previously published in Wingless Dreamer Publisher’s “A Field of Black roses” anthology under the title, “Death Plucks Purple Tears.
I touch the dry, yellow croaks for mercy.
They cling to clusters of life,
stems of a hanging plant
outside in the sun. I try to help
free them,
but the wilted blossoms
grip to liveliness tightly.
Soft hues, gone too soon, smeared
on my skin, settling in the ridges
of my fingerprints.
I pinch the brown crinkled stems
from their base, uncovering the green
underneath, how people pull to see
the green in themselves.
JAIMEE DEUEL-KRANZ 