learning to care for orchids
I lead you to your driveway, hand you rose-colored chalk,
so you may teach me about your boundaries. pull you in
by the hips, my tongue a steady instrumental
on the back of your neck. we lay as softened spoons
inside our creation. exhale slowly in all directions, hands
held to hearts in teenage whispers. until all edges scatter
like wild rice in poppy fields.
you paint my fingernails emerald desire, yours
ancient kindling orange. I tell you the word
I learned today: apricity. the warmth of the sun in winter.
discovered in the 1600’s and now considered archaic. we might
be primeval here, in the cave of our eyelashes.
you hang me in the windows to warm my vines. I face the sun
when I listen, so I can unlearn the shame of feeling visible. we roar
each other crimson, then pale again. shake poemseeds and clovers
into bathwater. you make hibiscus syrup for us
to float away in.
we build altars for our unmet selves, the parts of us
gone missing. write their names on strings of pearls
and introduce them to sunlight. I weave my hands into cups.
wait for you to fill them up with stories. I lean into temperance
like an agile season. imagine the wild-rooted potential
of a new winter garden.
Justin Demeter is a queer/trans poet and painter who lives and loves in Oakland, CA. He peddles paperbacks on mental health for a living. Justin has poems and art published in New Words 3rd Issue (New Words Press), Trans Bodies, Trans Selves 2nd Edition (Oxford University Press), and We Apologize for the Inconvenience (Beyond the Veil Press). He loves climbing things and thinks diastemas are wildly sexy. www.justindemeterart.com