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.