The poppies are too cheerful, squealing for even a tablespoon of attention.
Look at how they open wide like the mouth of a Siberian wild cat.
I told you I didn’t want to receive flowers, chocolates, anything at all.
The redness of the poppies speaks to me when I stare at them,
Gently whispering my name across the heart of the valley.
Pluck these poppies away from me: the roots, the petals, and the stem,
As they deserve a lavish vase and bloom unapologetically in fresh water.
My water is acidic and polluted, unworthy of your red poppies.
As much as I resist your poppies, they stubbornly stay alive and thrive.
Somehow, the redness blooms into my heart, staining my heart chambers.
Maybe I will change my mind about your red poppies next Valentine’s Day.
Kaelyn Tan is a high school sophomore from the Bay Area, California, interested in literary arts and advocacy. Her work often explores themes like identity, coming-of-age, and social issues. When she is not matchmaking words, she enjoys studying East Asian history and drinking pearl milk tea.
Featured image by Henry Be Licyia on Unsplash.
