Fritillary

 

 
 
 
I was pretty but not too pretty.

 

I kept my head down to count

 

sidewalk cracks, perpetually nodding.

 

Agreeable, always. A no that sighed

 

to yes. Easy to bend. The shock

 

when I emerged year after year,

 

trying to choose a direction,

 

following a simulacrum of who

 

I could be. I shuddered off my petals.

 

I grew all stamen, all unfruitful sex.