Burps of the Botanical

Careening up the dark wood playground

Little me finds corners cups the browned

Fleeting fit of body in tiny tunnel

Not for long will I be this small, this fun I’ll

Get older and learn to drive 

And when it’s time to arrive 

Back home I’ll weep as I curve the offramp

By the doctors office where the shame cramp

Sting was abruptly diagnosed 

My young ripped angry to a coast

Unvisited replaced by self loathing 

No room for grey, maybe, for and/both in

New reality sensuality is dirt

Empire of mom’s grief curt 

When she cried ‘I think it’s my fault

For not teaching you a mechanism of halt’

Later I know the science of a cold plunge

And the queer eyebrowless grip grunge

Of adulthood in rainy city winter

Gifted earl grey yogurt bread, enter

Burps of the botanical, herbaceous

Before staring at tanktopped curvaceous 

Mirrored hopes for spring outfits

Dance and avoid sads, write for outlets

Time for dinner, making tuna melts

Goodbye for now, past and future felts