Violets by Rebecca Berry When I pull off my shirt I see it again Flowers blooming Violets, always violets No daisies or sun flowers Just violets that whisper Forget-me-not Just violets from you So dark, round and often misshapen Tattooed over my breastbone To the small of my back And the crevice of my hips Always nesting like a tiny bird Some days it’s just the one Curled up tight into the crook of my arm Where I barely notice Other days it’s like my body is a field Where you scattered those dark blossoms You never asked me if I wanted them Never told me where you’d inherited yours But I promise I will try to keep them And not let them spread to someone else’s skin. Rebecca Berry: “ I am originally from Indianapolis. I graduated from Earlham College last year with a bachelors in Comparative Languages and Linguistics. After graduating I devoted a year of service with an AmeriCorps program, and s...
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.