Everyone else she tagged wrote really good poems, most of them very happy or idyllic, all quite sweet and perfectly innocent
and because I kind of liked the idea of there being something sinister about the words
and because I like to be different, the seemingly unshallow person that i pretend to be,
I didn’t write one like that.
I enjoyed the first line the most, i reckon, because I love blood oranges,
but it’s also a little hint of what’s to come.
Fruit and Needles
taste nothing like blood.
Despite what they call themselves.
And I didn’t know they even had a voice!
But bees? Well they can taste like anything,
when they put their minds to it.
I can still hear laughter of little ones.
Well those bees made short work of that
with their voices.
And every child wrapped up in earth,
the final blanket,
and at the foot of their beds,
a tree grew.
But it didn’t grow well.