"Flower Boy" by Bnspryd.
© Please do not reproduce without artist's permission.
by Emma Fissenden
then: wondering, did you plan it this way
when I found you crying owl-tears?
did you know when we sat—cross leg ged on the street-corner
telling wild stories, you freckled girl
with your eyes full of nebulae, never
knowing how much of the tree lines above us,
the pavement beneath your moccasins as you played
with a single daisy between two dirty fingernails,
the sound of crickets crying—
did you never know how these would shape my love for you?
Helpless as we slipped
the months away wrapped up in one another, drinking deep
the confusing self-lies we spilled
and exchanged to soothe our skin that skittered
every time we held hands at the back of the classroom, secreted
beneath a battered chemistry textbook—
never realising we were too young
to know these scattered moments were predesigned
by our adolescence. My love was not shaped by the tree lines, or
your moccasins on the pavement, or even by the mournful
crickets—no, not even those made me fall
It was forgiveness.
Emma Fissenden is a screenwriter who dabbles in fiction and poetry. She is a British expat living in Canada, and her favourite season is Autumn. If you peeled back her layer of skin, you would probably find a layer of red leaves.