Bloom

mary mary 
how contrary
why did your forest never grow
where are your silver bells 
and your cockle shells
and your pretty maids all in a row

I didn’t ask
I thought I ought to know
how painfully time passed
knowing I’d have to show 
my growth

my garden is anaemic
my petals white as snow
I’ve stitched them to the ceiling
so no one looks below

my garden is anaemic
my petals pressed in rows
I’ve labelled them for meaning
a girl a rose a scapegoat

my garden is anaemic
I never learned to sow
though I sing about the seasons
the drought the overflow

my garden is anaemic
the birds are barely ghosts
can roots as sure as feelings
grow brave enough to roam

if you came to me 
I’d wanna give you something
stillborn bloom
pale pale blue
if you came to me
I’d harvest from the humming
palm-sweat youth
seedling truth

if you came to me 
I’d wanna give you something
stillborn bloom
pale pale blue
if you came to me
and mirrored all my nothing
what would I do
what would you choose