When you came around,
A smile to split the sun
flowers budded and pushed
apart my skin. Lily-green and violet vines,
thriving on blood shoved aside
to grow, thready and clinging
to the pale trellis of my collarbones.
Those plants swayed towards you,
My light my light my only light
bells turned up to consume your warmth.
Soon enough, sun-drunk,
You would make spring last forever
sly shoots wound into my lungs, caught my tongue
and overgrew me.
I shambled and called to you,
Wither me drought me burn me away
purple poison-petals trailing behind.
You turned, that shining face
Eyes the flattest dark unseeing
to my jungled mass.
The foxgloves’ faces leaned in,
I was cloistered by the bell
You didn’t know, you didn’t know
and then gone.
Sam Hemenway is a student by day, and still a student by night, living in the shadow of an English degree from the University of Maine at Machias. Sam enjoys writing about the immense powerof nature and our bodies, and has written creatively since middle school, but has just gotten good at it recently. He grew up in the deep reaches of southern Maine, and will leave the forests of the Downeast in the winter to search for a career. Burnt Pine is his first publication, hopefully of many!