Mandrakes

The mandrakes were first to die

dethroned by marionettes built of flesh and titanium bone.

You did not see your pillaged garden bed

its soil scarred in places once fragrant

with the aroma of apples and freedom.

[The clouds were discharged

lest they saw too much]

You stood at sea, veiled in polypropylene

as their scalpels cleaved each wilted corpse

to cache the fallen purple.

They know you cannot tell

of what you must believe to see.

[The stars were extinguished

lest they shone too bright]

In winter, mantle vases will rest empty

starved of blooms whose blood is on their hands

with you as not their witness.

You did not hear the mandrakes crying—

their swan songs withered

[too soon to shed their warnings]

upon the ungentle dawn.

fin.

You can read more of Kathryn’s poetry here.

This poem was first published in JANE PRIVÉE