in the valley of orchids,
dipping below as a sternum,
on the back of her Earth, she cries
a sweet breath of indigo
and scarlet bloom,
to be frozen in the dawn.
thin stalks of burgeoning sweetgrass,
i rub in between my fingers
littered with gaps, stitching itself back together.
the thin green stalk, repeated verbatim between every creation,
and dusty breeze of pollution.
standing tall after every windstorm, bowing only to reach the midsummer sun.
reborn between the seasonal shifts, a new petal appears in the neon skies
of brass and gold raised pitchers.
holding murky water, clouded by bites of clay and circling the drain.
left to dry over pre-gentrified textiles,
every woven pattern switching between new thread.
By Lauren Goulette
My name is Lauren Goulette and I am a 15-year old high school sophomore from the Minneapolis area. I like to write poetry, paint, and do all kinds of creative things. By using my voice, I intend on spreading information through poetry and writing. I’m a member of my school’s Student Council and an ambassador for Her Coalition’s student OFOC organization.