when the world ended
tulips still poked up through the earth
grew heads so fat, so heavy
tender stems bent with the weight

some petals snapped off
others opened up--
imitating magnolias 
(which grow sturdy on trees)

how odd that they floated
incrementally to the ground
nothing like open mouths

how odd that hands placed 
fresh bulbs where earth had been
regenerating for years

(tulips regenerate too, if you didn’t know)

this generation 
made no decisions and 
became so wholly other
made no requests and
gathered each hasty gaze
unintentionally 

reconstruction means
writing the same word twice
expecting it to mean the same thing 
the second time around
Natalia Queenan tries not to write but just can't help it. She studied neuroscience and English at Barnard college and knows very little. Natalia currently lives in Boston, is from Philly, and misses Wawa very much. She is @fakenutelIa on Twitter. 
image: Jill Burrow via Pexels