Sometimes I’m prickly

Sometimes I am prickly. Today I am prickled because of Instagram’s sexist censorship policies humoring the misogynistic pigs who troll me. Both my personal account and @achinglypolite had stories reported and removed due to violating Instagram’s ~ community guidelines ~ Think about it: Our bodies violate Instagram’s community guidelines. Plain and simple, our existence as women…

You will not dry me

You will not dry me   The gladiolus in his drooped decay Sinewy bend for upside-down blooms like the wishbone of gardens. Severed ends, Rootless, he slurps In silent desperation As only a leaf’s width away In her pinstriped suit, calathea in salutation greets the sun   Perhaps punishment for poison, yet pothos tangles in…

Try to count the petals on a daisy

Try to count the petals on a daisy its pollined center the dust of butterfly flight Punctured to crown the most basic Queen of gardened lawn Prickling through my imagination elsewhere in my mind I play with those long gone and long for those yet to come Through paned glass, dampened cloth I still see…

Different creatures, you and I

We are different creatures, you and I. We laugh at different jokes and cry at different times. While we look alike, we’ll never be the same. Let us each go our own way and tread two separate paths. What is for you is lovely, but it mightn’t be for me. Happiness for all of us,…

A poem for my faraway friends

Faraway friends I love you so The lists where trusted hand spills truth through ink a firm rebuttle to the intrusive thought that nobody likes me for you do Not to sound trite the millennial in her pink thanks god for social media at once an unfair glimpse into the best angles of the world’s…

Gracie

I wrote a haiku for my plant babies. My cheese plant is named is Gracie. Yes I name my plants. I stand by it. ©2018 Clementine Yost May 24, 2018 12:30:00 PST

As the calathea

Much deeper than fat and hatred of skin It is loathing of the whole self And so in love and ink I reclaim That which should, but never truly felt as though it were Mine Always one step away just out of my grasp For what is the distance between a trot and a canter…

These Sunday blues

  Earth and existence fenced by headboard and footboard Queenly yet contained she sprawls soft sheets carving grooves like sequoia lifelines A web her breast marked by sleep Printed Dampened cloth like quitting, manifest clings to her back in veiled despair A chrysalis Stuck between self care and self hate hips in horizontal sway with…

Ephemeral

Remember, intrusive thoughts, panic attacks, bouts of intense body dysmorphia, it’s all ephemeral. unwanted visitors. fleet away. the only truly perennial presence in my life is the fluffy periwinkle of my trusted friend, the echium. by Clementine Yost ©