Hydrangea

When I die, I’ll come back
            an oakleaf hydrangea—
Something bigger
            than I was when we began.
When you die
            I want you to be a boy
so I can take you in
            on some decrepit path
pretending the wind running through
            somehow belongs to you.
When you bury me
            watch out: I’ll spread.
And you’ll recognize my autumnal red
            psychic flames burning
near your split rail fence.
            I was what you chose to plant
to absorb the emptiness
            left from other things.

Tasha Cotter’s first full-length collection of poetry, Some Churches, will be released in December with Gold Wake Press. Her work has appeared in journals such as Contrary Magazine, Country Dog Review, and Booth. Her fiction has been nominated for a storySouth Million Writers Award, and her poetry was recently named a finalist for the Philip Booth Poetry Prize. You can find her online at: tashacotter.com.