Belladonna

Belladonna

Pressed flowers and pinned butterflies cannot protest.

In the act of preserving beauty, we often destroy it.

In the act of preserving femininity, we often undermine it.

~

I met a woman whose arms grew as vines, but when she

could not blossom, the vines shifted into boa constrictors.

She became a modern Medusa, a stranglehold with a stare.

~

I too wished roses would bloom from my lips,

before realizing thorns offered more protection

from the greedy hands picking my body from the ground

Plucking the organs out like petals.

Like she loves me.

Like she loves me not.

Like it doesn’t matter if she loves me or loves me not.

~

Poison, by definition, is a form of self-defense.

Poison says, "I will only hurt you if you touch me."

Poison says, "I will only make you sick if you consume me."

~

My body, my femininity, my choosing of the defense:

Bleed poison, bleed thorns, bleed boa constrictors,

Bite the hand that presses your wings in pages,

Break the hand that pins you to the wall.

~

I will keep protecting Her

until the wildflowers can grow

until the butterflies can fly away.

~

~

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~

If you enjoyed this poem, it and many more poems can be found in my paper collage poetry book, All the Brooding Flowers: