The Route of the Petal Apparent

by Christine Kwon

I carry a wilting tulip

I pack a champagne glass

I try to trap the runt of the litter

I trace the green tendril growing from my chest

I am remembering my mother

I am peeling a scab

I am vellum paper

My hands catch rain

I tie a daisy chain

I blow a line of cocaine out, a dandelion

I lied, I sneezed

I am pulling on pantyhose

I am a line of floss tantalizing a kitten

A cloud moves quickly overhead

A line of ants is disrupted

I am an anole clutching the windshield

I am a lukewarm wind whistling in a hole

You could also call me a flute

I bathe my face in pasta water steam

My fancy serum came with a glass dropper

I am an MFA degree

I am the Christmas morning it really snowed and the presents were good

The moment the blue disappears

But it’s not quite night

I am the space between two friends who are just getting to know each other but one goes on vacation

If not a flower or a thin gold chain

If not easily broken

Don’t make me say it

 

Christine Kwon is the author of A Ribbon the Most Perfect Blue (Southeast Missouri State University Press), which won the Cowles Poetry Book Prize and debuts in March 2023. She lives in New Orleans.