Photo by Inés Castellano on Unsplash

By golden on pink,
and by strawberry fields
forever.

Or shoes that make a sound,
like clickity-clack, click-clack!

Or the curve in a raspberry,
even.
How it tasted,
dripping with charm —

Darcy,
you have bewitched me.

But I drew myself into your soul
beckoned by a tart and angry color…

--

--

Feb 20, 2021

Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash

And for each petal-blast that felt like (ooh, cringe)
volcanos in a Japanese painting of (spring),
contrived, you told me:

In the year of our lord 2020, there are thirty-seven hate groups in New York.

But in the morning,
during the fires of California,
you say:

Come, let’s go. Wake…

--

--

Photo by Corey O’Connell on Unsplash.

Where far-off men in rooms—
blink red white and blue
just go ahead, and
decide what we do.

And marching in streets,
those checkering potholes.
Past the shuttered supermarket crying — out of business!

But what should we do?

For there is a 13-year-old mother
still pregnant with Alabama.

And…

--

--

Photo by Syarafina Yusof on Unsplash

My Mother washed you.

As Mary Magdalene
washed —

Her rag delicate, wet,
and overwhelmed.

Washed foot
and hand,
forehead, shoulder.
And cold and still,
and ribs.

But you were gone, then —
already swimming with morphine fairies,
and the unborn of eight more,
of you.

With slow dances at…

--

--

Beatrice Wedd

Beatrice Wedd

90 Followers

Rightdoing/Wrongdoing | Learn more: @beatriceandthebook | Inquiries: beatrice.wedd@gmail.com | Do not reproduce content without written consent | 2021.