My poppies are shy, this spring,
under the dirt,
determined to stay in bed as long as possible,
like a troubled teen in that first summer after a heartbreak,
they grip tight to the ground and growl,
“Mother, I don’t like it out there.”
I mean,
who could blame them?
I am thinking of joining them.
Just growing and never showing myself to anyone,
never running the risk of rejection,
never letting the reflections of the outside fuck with my perception of what it means to be alive.
It all makes sense,
when you see it from a seed’s perspective.
Sincerely, Jennifer x 
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