Frank Carellini

Geranium

 
you hated the way that
i           left wet towels on the bed
and at night    you’d say
see i have nowhere to lay
my head          you cause
floods to burst                        i
have no ship to sail
away    from your love in
its weight        a selfish flower
taking all the sunlight
casting shade             on
what bellows below

the nightshade glistens in
the moonlight flashing
ultra-   violet fruits
my feet stain the bathtub
with what i drag in
from the garden      a
haggard dog across my back
it is broken & bleeding
i wonder what leaves
an animal wanting      death
i push my face into
a geranium until it
isn’t born        i’m a moth
trapped in a room of light
having flit against every
corner
to get out

Previously published in Hobart, Apricity Magazine, and other gracious journals, Frank Carellini primarily focuses on poetry.