Lupines by Kayla Proulx

It was always purple
Like the hottest flame, dancing
Then a cool ice blue
Purple like the lupines
In Sugarhill
The field of
Curling petaled heat

Of clear cloud dripping sky
And a splash
Shivering water
Of echoing drops
In April
Wordless lips
And lupines in June

The sweet earth
Was where I found my fire.


Kayla is a genderfluid bisexual poet who thinks that if she buys fountain pens and a broken typewriter it will make her more likely to sit down and write. Her succulent Jolene is her best critic.
Social media handles:
Twitter: @Oh_Kay_Poet

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