Flowers Out of Dark: Becoming Blodeuwedd

bud splits
petals unfurl
limbs untangle
from oak, meadowsweet, broom.

i am girl woman, woman girl, wirl goman, from flowers
fretty plowers was flowers, no more flowers, i touch skin
with fingerends, blood throbs in criss-cross lines, hot.

“eat,” they say, holding out tree fruit, free truit, juice pings
zings dings my fat wet tongue swallowing swirls it down,
no more sucking up in toes feet roots in dark earth, cold.

people move around me towards me never stop moving
always coming closer, their smells meat salt smoke
choke me, their heat presses against me, burning.

“husband,” they say, clearing the way for tall man boy,
staring boy man moy, they touch his fingers with my fingers,
i hold on to root ringers hair dirt still clinging.

where’s the air i’ve lost the air find me air sky,
with new legs i move walk run, follow wind’s breath
to sun, up stone steps stretch long tall, raindrops fall.

First published in Three Drops from a Cauldron Issue 17. Written by Mel Parks in collaboration with Sarah Bell from @spoiltvictoriannchild. Image by Pam Tinning.

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