poem

Tulip Bulbs

She’s buried deep

Waiting for spring

When the bulbs of her self-worth

Reenact their promising

 

Down in the deep

There hides old wounds

Like tooth decay

Sweetness covers anger it cocoons

 

She’s buried deep

Among the stone

Where river and clay formed

In her bones

 

Her smile now

It’s not for you

It’s grown from a place that smells like

Turpentine and glue

 

What she made is the only thing to her that’s true.

 

Carol Lee Campbell 2015