By Jack Cariad Leon
I saw them on my friend’s balcony recently:
little blooms, taking my breath away.
I felt as though they were within me,
an intrinsic part of me since before that day.
Like baby daisies with petals cute enough to eat.
Pink and perfumed, she’s joyous and bright.
If I was a fairy she would be my dream seat,
I’d do my embroidery sat upon a flower so slight.
Her uneven petals like five fun, playful paint strokes
something deep downs tells me that she’s
fond of trees, carpets of her found by oaks.
Never missed a chance to dance in a Spring breeze.
Sutera branches – reaching through my soul.
Just small, soft splodges of love itself,
as sweet and simple as cookie dough.
They poke holes through me ‘til I finally melt.
Jack Cariad Leon (he/him) is a transgender writer and visual artist based in Brisbane, Australia. A fan of the avant-garde, he collects dolls and art books of certain genres. He also has a deep interest in the history and lore of flowers.
Hot Pot Magazine 