by Ashley Sapp
He told her once
that he preferred the wildflowers
to the more famous blooms.
Wild though they were,
their names settled between his lips,
names he whispered in her ear
like a secret only they were strong enough to know.
And so she felt the wild bloom in the back of her jaw,
chiseled teeth clenched and feral.
They stepped carefully.
He dared not pick a flower for her,
instead he held out his hand,
and she could feel something.
Ashley Sapp resides in Columbia, South Carolina, with her husband and furbabies. She earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in English from the University of South Carolina in 2010 and has written for various publications. Her work has previously appeared in Indie Chick, Tipsy Lit, and the Common Ground Review. She is a bibliophile who enjoys traveling, tattoos, and a good pun or two (or three). Ashley has written two poetry collections: Wild Becomes You and Silence Is A Ballad.
Emerge Literary Journal 