Amidst fractures from Tinder’s white lies.
Love wasn’t always on groupon next to shampoo that soothes
When sunrises shook irises from unpolluted moonlit skies
we carved our names in the forest’s
bloomed dark glass which holds powder to portray what you saw-
Dahlia and soil growing rich in their dust
Hearts of courtship masked in slavery’s cries
Lifting plantation songs never stained, starving while
Sweet gentry hide shredded feet behind roses
Southern life dead. Once flowering trellis, cracked thorns now pierce
Loves an abandoned culture of history’s
Living-minded figurines your fragile
History inked into your ancient skin as it melted with mine one last time
Molly McGrane is from Chicago IL, and is currently a Batten Scholar at Culver Academy. Her work has been published in The Quill.