Photo by Connor Betts on Unsplash

Rue of Time

Your regret planted in
desert cacti, in spiked inhales
that cleaved your lungs.

You cried O daughter, I’m all dried up
as I soaked your feet in balm
and patient words.

The cavities in your body
smoked out, black tar clung
to your diaphragm. You wept
as moths nibbled your thick skin,
nestled larvae in your sap.

I tended your tiny fuchsia blossoms,
beauty you said was in vain,
but from these I saw your medals
pinned in petals & needles.

Abby Jewett 2019