This thing that’s blooming in your chest
has been growing there how long now?
It was the same before, but different.
One flesh but not, something budding
in his mind bloomed sudden across
your chest, a lavish violet, coppery green.
Five petals wilted brown on your bicep.
Never expected, the flowers from a storm,
and pollinated with remorse.
And now. And now. Your flesh but not.
Its tenacity is yours, its habit
of thriving where unwanted.
Bulbous among the milky bulbs,
fine roots in the branching roots of your heart.
How will they know where to send the poison?


Tammy Bendetti writes and paints on Colorado's Western Slope, where she lives with her husband and two little girls. In her spare time she enjoys dancing badly and drinking dangerous amounts of coffee.