poetry: the wilting season

“oh, you've got to be seen green/don't tell them your cupboard's bare/that you gave up one week's feed/to pay for your colored hair”

—Emerald City Sequence, The Wiz

the flies return in droves. they too
sense the impending arrival of fruit

spring brings sweetness
sheds old layers, unearthing a much

needed hibernation, cut short
once more. the melting snow, an

attempt to soothe the memory of burning
but the burn lingers in a blossom’s

stillbirth. though gnats are greedy
they are equal opportunists

sucking away at the marrow of an
unrealized bud the same way it

uses its bladed tongue to siphon
the afterlife from rotted fruit

drunk in their desire, they are too
busy gasping for flavor to lament

Ashia Ajani (they/them) is an award winning Black storyteller soulchild hailing from Denver, CO, Queen City of the Plains and the unceded territory of the Cheyenne, Ute, Arapahoe, and Comanche Peoples. They are an environmental justice educator with Mycelium Youth Network and co-poetry editor of the Hopper Literary Magazine. Their work explores Black diasporic environmental stewardship, harm, and placemaking. Their words have been featured in Sierra Magazine, World Literature Today, Lumiere Review, Atmos Magazine, and Eco Theo Review, among others. Their poetry debut, Heirloom, is forthcoming Spring 2023. They can be found grass-side, sharing a cup of coffee with the sun. Follow them @ashiainbloom and ashiaajani.com.