Spring Ephemeral/s

Spring Ephemeral/s
Laura Sackton

It’s all talking, out

here in the forest. Frilled

oak catkins lifting

their green skirts, talking

to wind, wind making

letters Indigo buntings

unravel with their wings, bees

addressing with sweetness

the starry white blossoms

on the pin cherries. I

tried talking to my gender

but she didn’t want to have

a conversation. Open

all the closed stones.

Backfill the wreckage with

petals. How small we are,

with our books & windows.

In botany, a flower with both

male & female parts is

called a perfect flower.

Trees have sex with wind

& moths & wasps & beetles &

each other. In spring

their pollen drenches 

sidewalks & porches & ponds

& the tops of my feet &

the tender skin along 

my shoulders that no one 

ever touches. All

spring trees touch me, invite me 

into the conversation they’re

having about staying alive.

I mostly ignore my body until

I enter a tree’s corona where

my nakedness doesn’t feel 

like a collapsing galaxy. Lilacs 

& shadbush have perfect

flowers. Redbud, crabapple,

winterberry, witch hazel—oh perfect

flowers, riddle me & spell me

to bloom. I brought my gender

a bouquet of beech twigs, buds 

unfurling all fluttery & soft, and I think

it piqued his interest. 

We put so much into the ground 

without considering the ground’s 

capacity for pain. In the forest

talking tethers the future to

the present. I asked my gender 

if they wanted a break from

all the infinities they tend to,

but they were buried in the folds

of a flowering dogwood

and didn’t hear me. So let

the leaves tumble. Erupt

the whistling hillsides. Trees

have sex in the unflinching 

open under starlight & moonlight

& all the lights & all the skies

which means they never

learned to hide their desires

or their bodies. It doesn’t

mean they don’t have secrets. 

I told my gender what I wanted.

I told my gender my name

was flowers. My gender

walked me into 

the forest and let me go.


Laura Sackton (she/her) is a queer poet from the Boston suburbs who lives and writes in rural Western Massachusetts. Her work has appeared in West Branch, Terrain.org, Tampa Review, and elsewhere. She's known around the internet as a champion of earnestness.

Laura Sackton

Laura Sackton (she/her) is a queer poet from the Boston suburbs who lives and writes in rural Western Massachusetts. Her work has appeared in West Branch, Terrain.org, Tampa Review, and elsewhere. She's known around the internet as a champion of earnestness.

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