• Marías at Sampaguitas

Poetry by b. pick


Effeuiller la Marguerite


She loves me, she loves me not,

Time will only tell as she pluck-pluck-plucks away my petals.

Her fingers soft, frail, and long, dipping into peachy flesh,

Her thumbprints accidentally creasing a gentle indigo into my fragile layers.

She seems to overthink the simplest of transactions,

She [plucks] me, she [plucks] me not,

But I keep growing new appendages

To delay inevitable utterances.

I’ll keep singing this nursery rhyme,

She [plucks] me, she loves me not,

Until I learn to photosynthesize her warmth

Into sweetness on my tongue.

She loves me, she [plucks] me not,

A final petal falls, her cheeks fall whiter than the daisy she’s stripped.





b. pick is a lesbian poet and creative non-fiction author based in small town Canada. They are an Hon. BA English and Cultural Studies candidate at Western University, where they work as a copy editor for the Western Gazette. Their work has most recently appeared in SAPPHIC, Tipping the Scales, and Grubstreet Journal. You can find them on Twitter at @_bpick.

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