top of page
Writer's picturethe graveyard zine

Sunflower Sestina

By Emily Conner


Behind my father’s farm, there is a sun-dressed field.

Every sunrise, and in my morning clothes, I run

through the clouds and hug the warmth

of the spirits that paint these flowers,

A beautiful yellow. And I kiss the stalks

that dress such beautiful petals.


And after my head is dressed in fallen petals,

I fall upon the cushion of the fields

With love in my eyes. And as I roam these stalks,

I smile to myself and wipe away these tears that run.

I protect these precious flowers

And ask my gods to embrace us all in this warmth.


I drown in this wonderful warmth

And whisper secrets to every petal,

Sing songs to all the flowers.

Every sunrise, I give all my love to this field.

I gather yesterday’s sadness and I run

Through the tallest, most gallant stalks.


But one day, while I ran in the stalks

I saw a man in the distance melting under this warmth.

I watched him stare, then spit, then begin to run.

So, I followed suit, and took off running, trampling the fallen petals.

My love began to burn in my eyes, and I tore through my beloved field.

I heard his footsteps behind me. In front, I pushed away the flowers.


I ran as fast as I could, but I was pushed down by the flowers.

Behind me, the ground plummeted with the man’s stalks.

With yellow fear in my bones, he chased me through my field

Until all I felt was my burning feet and blood that fed me warmth.

He yelled at every bird and tore at all the petals.

And by the time I reached my father's farm, there was nowhere left to run.


I fell upon my sacred ground, my tears continuing to run.

Around my legs, surrounded by dirt, were all my precious flowers.

With shaky hands, I picked off all the petals

And tried to make my legs run from the man who stalks.

I sank into the sun-dressed soil and tried to bury myself in such warmth.

It wasn’t until I stood again that I could look into the field.


Behind me, in my warm flower field, there stood a man.

A man who stood in the stalks with petals all around him.

A man who never ran, for his legs were tied with straw.

6 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page