Michael Mlekoday's poem "Cutting the Good Rosemary" appears in Issue No. 42: Forming One Another.
CUTTING THE GOOD ROSEMARY
means taking from the bees, the butterflies,
for they know medicine better than us,
so I look for a bush less populated.
Maybe I’m just afraid of getting stung,
my body so removed from its history,
it thinks the bee’s poison a poison. Or
maybe this fear means, secretly,
I want it, the throbbing Freudian kiss
of my ancestors, my allergies
a kind of purgatory meant to prepare me
for becoming animal, again. Either way,
I go to the darker rosemary instead,
in the shade, unbothered by the other
pollinators, and draw the stone arrowhead
I carry on my person at all times,
and take, I think, only what I need.
Read the other poems, stories, and art from Ruminate's Issue 42: Forming One Another.
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