The branches reach skyward, its split ebony bark,
bent and twisted.
How they curl at their tips: avidity shaped it thus.
That fervour was not without fruits.
The terribly white, pure flowers that grew from rooted greed,
how their pink shade lures all with its milk.
The transparency of their petals.
They are too delicate.
How the stigma oozes, how it is squeezed hard.
Their ovaries are sucked dry.
The golden milk! molten gold, liquid wealth,
how it is tapped and bled for all its prosperous glory.
A tree that exploits itself is a wonder,
an arduous wonder.
How it frenziedly drains what feeds its own roots.
A rapacious cycle.
Infectious branches are transcended by virginal blossoms.
How such unhealthy appetite is excused often.
Step close, rip a flower from its bud.
Spread the petals, with two fingers or two hands:
How accustomed are they. part your lips and drink it all.
Author bio:
Miguel Guerreiro Lourenço is a Portuguese writer, currently living and studying in the United Kingdom. A passionate poet, Miguel is influenced by many contemporary artists and his love for music, namely hip-hop, especially in the flow and rhyme schemes. He aspires to entertain as much as inspire, never truly forgetting his modest roots, that truly enrich his writing.
Photo by Yuri Bodrikhin on Unsplash
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