Inevitable
From the 2022 collection, "Sonnets for the Comfortably Uncomfortable"
I know the flowers understand my pain
of being turned into a drug for men.
Elixirs, petal mixtures, lovers slain;
their greed turned overdose, and we for them.
Our faces turned to tales like fairy tales
after they coax us out of silver green.
One to the other brilliant coffin nails;
the price of sweetened purple poppy seed.
Obliteration in the guise of love
when you've been burning us like opiates,
like medicine, to ignore what you've done--
parading like it's matrimonious.
So, go ahead and take another hit--
a garden's last song; you will pay for this.
About the Creator
Sara Wynn
"No one knows where the edge of the knife is,
and no one knows what intelligent life is."
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