Hydrangeas

Emma Bruce

If we walked to the edge of this clear lake, Enjoyed the burst of blue flowers underfoot, I could be whole again. Sky bathing my breastbone through my skin, Through the deep navy of your woven shawl.

If you are root and aster, I am hydrangeas. Mint to me tastes blue, like beads of water Caught in your hair— The kindest thing I have seen.

You in spring are my antidote, Laughing clear across this field.

Let’s be pastoral, build a house, Care for goats at the edge Of this lake, You can read me Wendell Berry And I’ll embroider onto flannel

The way you are sprawled Among the hydrangeas. Blue eyes, blue sky, blue— Like the speckled shells of eggs My mother gathered on farms In central Texas, blue Like the sky I’m learning to live without, Widespread without an end.

One day I’ll give you the blue dress With the hydrangeas, Let fabric fall over your ribs And we’ll go dance in a creek of starlight.

Can you tell I am tired of roaming?