The Summer of Marigolds

For the Poetry Jam this week Poetikat has charged us with the task of writing a dark poem about flowers. Having recently had an interesting flower experience at my mother-in-law’s viewing I imagined that I would write about that. But I couldn’t put that into words just yet. So instead I offer this. It might actually not be dark enough for Kat, but in the tradition of the poetry bus (now jam) I’m sticking my tongue out at her & posting this anyway. Ha! Please go here to read other rebellious, or conforming, entries.

Kindergarten Bug

The Summer of Marigolds

There were marigolds
lining the sidewalk
at my cousin‘s house.
I ran through them
and said, “Simon Says”
and “Mother May I”
and something
complicated about
ice cream and black
widow spiders.
Games of childhood
when I belonged.
In the fall, when the
marigolds were gone
I learned to read
and never really
belonged again.

In my minds eye
I watch that laughing girl.
Did I kill her with books?
Or save her.

1st Grade Bug