Nettle heart.

Bright sunflower girls abuzz with their careless hands,
sting the passersby and leaves without so much
as a by your leave. I watch them,
I was them. A while, another summer.
I grow thick with want for this summer to end,
the delicate stems of me wish to wither and curl.


Leaves rustle to the melody of Bella Ciao
in a low note and I note their discontent
through a failed revolution they fall bloody
to the ground. I rise up
I rise up against the sun’s force and all
who reach for me in that time
are spurned.


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