Two Lips Perennial

Come back

every year

dormant with potential not yet known

from freezing in the ground.

It’s so rewarding,

my version of having a baby.

Each one has her own process, position, shape

velvet moon glowing red

bursting at her yellow center.

Each one takes the air different,

even as the storm forces them to crane

their swan neck dangling heads, eastward.

Everyone has their angles

north noding, south splaying

falling at their own rate.

I’m a sullen bell.

I’ll die in my own way,

exposing my black middle, pulled in every direction

one last spread

one last chance to take up space and be known

for all I ever had unfurling in the ferns curl

as if to open arms widely as the sun’s rays

to say,

Burn my letter, untold.

Melt my gold.

Blaze the fiery eye,

Let it go, die.

Trust the wind, clear.

Come back every year.