Elegy for Ophelia with the Sky Full of Starlings
Purple
Orchids
When
death comes, go out to meet it
stretch out your hand in starlight
pick orchids along
the way.
Lascivious
to bees,
these won't make a proper garland.
Dead
men's fingers they call them.
They'll
want me to be buried in violets,
they'll insist.
Columbine
Thankless
flower. Tragic. Senseless. Columbine.
You
don't love me. I don't care. You said I was nothing.
It
doesn't matter now. It
doesn't matter now. It's
all gone rotten.
Rosemary
Dew of
sea, remember me.
Father
why did you abandon me?
Rue
You
mother, you must wear your rue with a difference.
Your
heart, nothing like mine,
snapped
shut from the start,
asleep
in its cage, drugged in darkness.
You
pried me open ― pressed fingers
into the heart's softness,
turned
it over and over in your hands.
Wind-rain and a sky full of starlings, it’s almost
time.
Daises
Day's
eye opens. Daisies bloom
under a
peculiar morning moon.
Strange,
how love works upon us,
daisies
in my arms like children.
Now
I've picked them, they'll die too.
And
when you find me floating, palms up,
pull up
the corpse to dry land.
Bury me
at the crossroads.
Dig
deep.
Elizabeth
Mercurio earned an MFA in poetry from The Solstice Low-Residency Program of
Pine Manor College. Her work has appeared in Third Point Press, Philadelphia
Stories, The Skinny Poetry Journal, The Literary Nest, Fledgling Rag,
Martin Lake Journal, Poems2go, and the Lily Poetry Review.
She was nominated for a Best of the Net nomination and was the 2016 recipient
of The Sharon Olds Fellowship for Poetry. Her chapbook, Doll is
currently available from Lily Poetry Review Books.
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