By: Jocelyn Ulevicus
Dyed pink, the baby’s breath looks wild
to me—so much more beautiful than
the filler-flowers of my girlhood bouquets
& prom corsages—dry, I can’t look at them
without seeing—an arid desert landscape,
grasslands, & dunes transforming my loft.
In California, this flower is considered an
invasive species—beauty truly gone wild.
I touch their tiny blossoms and they respond
with the sound of time—funny to think that
such a delicate flower could be so meddling—
uncultivated, so free and complete.
Jocelyn Ulevicus is an artist and writer with work forthcoming or published in magazines such as The Free State Review, The Petigru Review, Blue Mesa Review, and Humana Obscura. Working from a female speculative perspective, themes of nature and the unseen; and exit and entry are dominantly present in her work. She resides in Amsterdam and is currently working on her first book of poems.
"Truth is a moment of noticing. I do my most honest writing in the morning, just shortly after waking, and before the world rushes in. On this one particular morning, I sat at my kitchen table, candles burning, listening to the quiet. I remember looking at the vase of flowers and specifically at the delicate little buds with an appreciation for them that was certainly lost on me as a younger girl. Or perhaps was their 'wildness' speaking to me more as the woman I've become: a person unwilling to be categorically bound as this or that."
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