I must have planted my rose bushes
in a hundred different types of soil.
And in one of those instances,
I think I tried to plant them
in some place no different than Hell.
Demons would pluck at the leaves.
Cerberus would chew on the stems
despite the thorns.
And the ground,
the land was dead and bare.
No rain came pouring
down in the Underworld.
Not a single drop of life
for roses to draw.
They died and I sprouted
new ones from the dirt.
They wilted and I bore them
once more from within
I planted them and they shriveled
wherever I did so.
I’m no good at gardening.
But this hundredth and first try—
At last, flowering.
Renaye Greenwood grew up in Cadillac, Michigan, where she spent most of her adolescence reading and writing fiction before trying her hand at poetry as a college student. Now in her twenties, she enjoys a range of artistic endeavors, such as painting, dancing, and making music, which often consists of sixteen second loops made on GarageBand. When she isn’t hanging out at her apartment watching The Chronicles of Narnia, you can find her around MSU campus, typing up all her newest ideas. “Flowering” is Renaye’s first published work of poetry.