Grounding Lavender

Elisa Rowe

Wrap a scarf like
kneading dough, pool
a little lavender to graze
my cheek.

My body, a slipping
finger on a piano. My
body, trembling into tune.

I want to be soft like
belonging. I want
my neurons to fire a
country into memory.

Routine is like a house on
feathers. Neurodivergence,
equally nebulous, like rocking
planes and clicks of
language.

Take this shimmering fact about
rabbits: when mothers give
birth they call it kindling.
Soft things, born in
cracklings.

Today I will fold this
woven thing to breathe
what is left of flowers,
whispering lavender,
lavender, crackling,
crackling
.

Previously published in Sledgehammer Literary Journal (November 2021) and the chapbook Every Imagined Tundra (Bottlecap Press, 2022)

Writing Prompt: Write a praise poem to something that grounds you. Help the reader see/feel/hear/touch/smell it. 

Born in Belfast, Northern Ireland and raised in Boston, MA, Elisa Rowe (she/her) is a neurodivergent writer, educator, and poet. Her debut chapbook, Every Imagined Tundra, was published in January 2022 by Bottlecap Press. Her work has also appeared or is forthcoming in Michigan Quarterly Review, perhappened magazine, SAND Journal, and elsewhere.