Cherry Blossom

By | 1 February 2020

Sky scatters from the cherry blossom,
in their thousands they claim the space pink,
their endless, fluttering, clusters.

The street gives itself to them, pollarded,
scarred trunks squat like ego-broken mystics.

Pavements offer themselves up as a stage to all fallen things

and the cobbles dirt ride on their glamour.
The cafes, the shops, all bloom with those flowers,

perhaps the scent of the flowers is there, somewhere
beneath the chronic petrol,
the thick laced perfumes of our consumption.

A cigarette burns in the hand of a supplicant boyfriend
kneeling before his girlfriend, phone in hand.
she is a live stream of a selfie, bubbling for all to see.

Here is a crush of girls wanting to be seen with the trees.

Arms around trunks, each other, duck-face kisses
in amongst that overwhelm of blossom, girls

wanting to be seen with nature, by nature, wanting it
inked into skin, and posted on Instagram, filter/no filter! to look at later
and count the likes.

Sightseeing wildness,
as if it wasn’t already inside them.

This entry was posted in 95: EARTH and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

  • No Related Posts Found

Comments are closed.