Like Bloodroot

Photo by Simon Garbutt, via Wikipedia

He was fairly sure it was lost,
perhaps tossed last year
in that moment of realization
and frustration he’d had
after holding it for its twenty minutes.
He’d always dug it out and embraced
the smudged possibilities there
in its past, wiped at
the thumb-stained barrenness
of its present, then turned over
the sharp-focused realities
of its future.
What were you thinking?
he’d always ask as he stuffed the photo
into a pile of unmarked manila graves,
in the bottom of a locked drawer.
But it’s early spring,
and like pale bloodroot,
she’s come blooming again,
delicate, shallow, toxic,


3 thoughts on “Like Bloodroot

  1. For some reason this reminds me of the saying that “All saints have a past; all sinners have a future.” I love this capture, for I think most of us have tucked away pieces of ourselves—photos, ticket stubs, cards, dried flowers—and sometimes what we’ve saved may not bring that warm, fuzzy feeling to mind, but all are our remnants of our pasts, lived. We can’t go back, but we can pull them out of the cobwebs now and then and remember.

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