on the anniversary
Two days before,
I scratched the earth
beneath the columbine
in my garden.
Pulled weeds
that overwintered there,
ripped up their roots,
thought nothing
of their sweat and sap.
Columbine
sprouts from sand and soil,
cuts through cracks
in the asphalt path.
Columbine—
stuck in my mind;
a different meaning now
since ’99.
The columbine
she spits her seeds;
like weeds they multiply.
Her vibrant blooms
less beautiful
for her name.
Today—
Virginia,
violence multiplied.
Virginia,
her name
shall never be the same.
Virgin rage,
virgin blood,
virgin tears,
Virginia.
Yolanda Coulaz is a poet, photographer, editor, and founder of Purple Sage Press. She teaches poetry workshops to middle and high school students throughout Long Island and coordinates and hosts the Farmingdale Library Reading Series. Coulaz edited and published the anthology For Loving Precious Beast to help benefit Loving Touch Animal Rescue. Her first book of poetry Spirits and Oxygen is being used in an advanced course in poetry at SUNY Stony Brook.
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