Growing Game

The slow ticking of my blood
reminds me of the flowers

bursting open at night,
in the garden’s pathways—

the moon never thanks us.

The body wants to fall
in love with the ticking,

but we’ve been at war,
with the mind. It’s wicked

to open at the stamens
and close the core from

traveling in a bee’s pouch.
My brain can’t stop rotting

like the compost pile, always
waiting to be repurposed,

used for good.

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Terin Weinberg earned her MFA from Florida International University in Miami, Florida. She graduated with degrees in Environmental Studies and English from Salisbury University in Maryland. She has been published in journals including: The Normal School, Flyway: Journal of Writing & Environment, Red Earth Review, Dark River Review, Split Rock Review, and Waccamaw. Terin received a 2020 Best of the Net nomination.