Puckered petals gape like wounds,
Their blood red splattered wide
Across a dull and deadened land
Shorn by invisible shears,
Salt-licked by tongues of wind
Swept off a shrieking sea.
Stricken, swollen, bloated:
The corpse, a copse of brambles
Secreting avaricious sand lice.
The storm has passed;
Stilled now, the shrew.
Against a scrim of copper-plated skies
The still born and the barren stir.
Apocalyptic stains flare to life
Amid the fallen tears of flattened flax;
Bleeding hope stirs for those in need.
Look up! Lift eyes dulled by drudgery,
Risk blooms from humble blood stock.
Born wild, bred for strength, their roots
Resist, their petals rustle rakishly,
The coquette coquelicot conquers.
Ó Anaïs Laurent 24/06/10