Rhododendron by Lucy Whitehead
I am a princess alone
among the rhododendrons,
plucking the sticky flowers pushing
as many as I can
behind my small ears weaving
them into my tangled hair.
I raise a single blossom
up to the sun see how it blazes
deep pink
all the way through,
sunbeams glinting
off the syrup at its centre wonder
how it tastes want
to put my tongue to it.
One of the bushes is hollow.
I climb through leaves damp
from a rain shower
into a room of flowers
and broken sunlight til
I am cradled
in pink petals a cocoon
of summer an upside-down
flower basket a blossom
umbrella.
I crouch down
on the petalled ground serve
invisible friends imaginary
cordial in upturned flowers.
It tastes of honey and raspberries,
of earth and sea air.
Outside, grownups
are sauntering about
like bees with their cups
of tea their wine and chatter,
with their sensible dresses,
their serious expressions their
untangled hair.
No one can see me
or knows I’m here.
Far off,
amidst the drone
of insects and conversation,
someone is calling my name.

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Lucy Whitehead has a BA (Hons) in Archaeology and Anthropology from the University of Cambridge and an MA in History of Art and Archaeology from SOAS University of London. Her poetry has appeared in Amethyst Review, Barren Magazine, Black Bough Poetry, Burning House Press, Collective Unrest, Electric Moon Magazine, Ghost City Review, Mookychick Magazine, and Twist in Time Magazine, and is forthcoming in Anti-Heroin Chic. You can find her on Twitter @blueirispoetry.


One Comment
Siham Karami
I love this!