Now that I think about it

I don’t understand the bumble bee,
why it wastes time impregnating flowers.

I hate commitment, imagine
myself coasting around,

never stopping long enough
to foster growth of any kind.

Then I see my nephew, how
he has sprouted from love,

think I could give of myself,
shed some of the life

I’ve been saving for
nothing else.



Dear Potential Boyfriend

You are an overripe

too mushy
to enjoy.

Trust me,
your kindness
will turn to mold.

My unfortunate taste
for a tart lemon
will do you


About the Poet:
Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts.  Her writing has been published in several magazines, including Gargoyle, Muddy River Poetry Review, New Verse News, and Silver Birch Press.  You can follow her work at


Photo by Jil Wellington.


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