2 am anxieties
Dandelion tea hidden beneath Babushka's bottom - what a doll for such a bittersweet treat!
Dandelion tea
swirling deliciously bitter-sweet
oh how you heal
deep within this ghastly beast
your slimy roots lasting generations
protruding within these creaky floorboards
Deep -
⚘
blasting bullet holes rippled against walls
meant to protect values within
those which a weak stomach fails to do
without refluxing acid volcanically
Wounds -
⚘
they surround these swollen feet
pacing within the worn ragged baseboards
supporting daunting thoughts
those 2am anxieties
Shapeshifting -
⚘
as Babushka Dolls escape through
with elegance
disappearing seemingly suddenly
though only noticed once they pungently
expand their roots
showing exponentially more than meets
your glassy protruding eyes
Tear-filled -
⚘
from the betrayal of distasteful storage
of dandelions fatefully
though excited from the pleasure
swiftly crafted within each loose tea leaf
hidden deep beneath the final Babushka lady
her inner patchwork complete.
~
Copyright © 2023 by Kalina Bethany. All rights reserved.
Thanks for reading this piece for Poppy's January Prompt about the healing effects of dandelion tea for the gut - who may be leaky! Bonus if the tea is stored loosely in a Babushka Doll's butt ;)
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About the Creator
Kalina Bethany
[she/her]
Constantly seeking new adventures
A passionate writer of the non-fiction, historic taste, novel and surreal
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar2 days ago in Feast
Comments (2)
There are so many plants that are healing, dandelion tea among the many. Very informative and lovely poem.
This is so gorgeous. Your writer's voice really shines through here. I also loved the photo you used. "those which a weak stomach fails to do without refluxing acid volcanically" Such well crafted lines.