By Malley Chertkov
What Do Flowers Have To Do With It Anyway?
I liked flowers so
I welcomed the fists
And waited till the next day
For the violets to grow
I could never figure out how to pick them though.
With time they would wilt and die,
And leave my skin.
As if they never existed.
As if he never existed.
As if I never existed.
A time came when the gardener decided he was through
His violets weren’t enough to make up for the pain
Because even a gardener realizes at one point,
That flowers have nothing to do with it.
They are just fragrant excuses.
So for a time there were no more green thumbs,
But I missed the violets
And maybe I missed the gardener,
And planting seeds.
But violets die,
As do most things,
So I figured maybe roses would be better.
So while shaving my legs
I tried planting my own seeds
And waited to be painted with a field of roses.
But the red of the roses was vivid with life, not love
And they did not fill my hunger.
They were just lies,
Left there by a pseudo-gardener
Who only knew how to love flowers,
And never really how to plant them.
What do flowers have to do with it anyway?
They are nothing but fillers.
Trying, desperately, to be enough
To carry words too loud to be spoken.
But flowers can’t change anything,
And neither can pseudo gardeners.
I was born in Sarasota, Florida in 1997 and moved to New Jersey when I was five years old. I go to the Peddie School in Hightstown, New Jersey, and will be headed to Wellesley College in fall of 2015. I love to read articles and books, play piano and sing, learn about social justice, and try new food. I am the leader of the Feminist Club and the Gender and Sexuality Alliance at my school. I am interested in environmental policy and science as well as music and politics.