resentment

this is what you must do:
bring me lavender lemonade
in a cold sweating glass
and if you are really sorry,
a sprig of mint will do.

feed me one of those raspberries
that grow plump and red on their stems.
my white hard teeth
will burst juices tart and bloody.

later you will try, and fail, to eavesdrop
as i whisper into
the hollows of tulips,
the folds of pale roses,
then bow my ear for the reply.

only flowers make sense to me now.
so good, these soft sisters, at hearing me.

no, i will not make you
do anything.
go.
we will both be free.

my garden is alive,
my shoulders and ankles
are wreathed by vines who love me.

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© 2014 nessa jasper