A Girl is a Flower


jasmine (love)

if there is one thing jasmine has learned,
it is that love should be sweet;
like the honey of the bees that kiss the flowering sprigs
their lazy buzz, the moonlit lemon grove

she knows the precise way his breath catches,
the crinkling of a silk gown
the great, unnamable feeling pressed up against her ribs,
as ancient as the star-littered awning of sky

her memories are petaling
the foreboding of blood-red October dawn
but for now, there is only this vineyard
and his voice, reminding her to love him

till next morning, and the next, and the next-

evening primrose (resilience)

night air is perfumed with something royal,
like heavy velvet curtains, a crystal champagne flute
the low hanging-moon is its own kingdom
Saturn a bishop, each star a dancer of the court
that crescent shaped scar sings to primrose
the softly humming wind, a melody
her heart, those deep blue veins, a melody
primrose has been burnt many times before,
she’s seen sunspots behind her eyes
but when the wind tugs at her leaves just right, she still dances
unfurling bloom, arching spine

english bluebell (magic)

be wary of the witches, whisper the field mice
they hide in the bluebells
you’ve heard the stories
their name an incantation, conjure the taste of fear
but bluebell, bluebell lets the witches in
they are not long-nails and crooked fingers,
no black robe, broomstick, hex
the witches do not deal in costume jewelry
they are fine blue mist and rosewater
cobblestone castles and roaring flame
everything the field mice wants you to forget
the witches remind you, bluebell reminds you, you remind you
that you are not a princess
you have always been a dragon

lily (power)

great arching bulb
orange like lamplight
lily is like ichor,
regal like bronze shield and battle song
gold glistens on her lips,
ivory in her hair
she is to power as
Icarus is to sky
too brazen, too lovely
an empire on the brink of the fall
she knows the feeling
her descent will be just as sweet

lilac (youth)

what does it mean to be a revolutionary?
is it to be wild and teeming?
creeks for veins and a river for a tongue
do you ever wonder why the word holy
tastes so sweet on your tongue?
the way the old cathedrals
smell like woodsmoke and honeycomb
the way an unhaloed angel’s song is the most sweet
lily writes her own hymns,
smears river-blood under her eyes
to fight the young fight
to light her own flame

daffodil (hope)

april brings with it rain-song and the promise of flowerbeds
and gives daffodil only one dream:
a future where she realizes
that there are no more wounds here
that each day does not bruise her
leave her kneeling in muddy grass
so she can realize she has been changed
from a creature of sharp edges to one
of soft beauty
seeds know not of their
green leaves and sun-yellow petals
seeds are afraid to dream
but daffodil, now, is not

Katherine (15) wants to make the world a better place, through writing or otherwise. She loves peach tea, art history, and beauty in all its strange and hopeful forms. 

Katherine Oung