"Little Februaries"
Sunday, February 12, 2012 
Paperwhites
BY MICHELLE DETORIE
Little Februaries, they
unbind themselves, pages
sweetening the air.
Little petals, not fit
for grieving, ornately
frail. Petals sheer as sheets,
as raw and spare. Stems,
thin straws of green, needles
drinking the dirt —
unspooling the white
bulb into blossom. Lips
parting open their pale
veils. Green veins poured
into tiny cups of ivory air.
Green straws — green pencils —
throats through which a shallow
dark is drawn. White notes
birthed and nursed. A white song
scored — forced out — little breaths
exhaled. Sweet wreaths for rooms.
Sweet wraiths exhumed. Eyes
opening the whites
at the end of their lines.
Source: Blackbird Archive
Reader Comments (3)
........Eyes opening the whites at the end of their lines.
Funny, the first time I read this, I read it as 'at the end of their lives', which really struck my heart, hoping we all have a second chance to really see the beauty in life so that we can appreciate life fully during life :)
oh!
e., you illustrate these words perfectly. this, i adore:
"a white song scored - forced out - little breaths exhaled" - extraordinary observation skills, she has.
(love the new look, by the way).
@Diana: Your initial "misreading" -- and I'm reluctant to call it that -- struck my heart, too. I agree.
@Lucy: Thank you, dear friend. I adore this poem more and more ever time I read it. (So glad you like the "new look" -- can't resist doing this as a new season approaches.)