Amanda McDowell

Bluebell Sweetness

I found a patch of bluebells in the branches
tucked among old dead twisted things
tufts of worn out grass
that hadn’t seen green since September

I didn’t expect them like I never expected you
popping up among brambles
to bloom before winter had given permission
for any kind of growth

I wanted to tell you so badly
and if desire pushed thoughts into other hearts
you would know before I did

If desire pushed thoughts into other hearts
you would know my every waking notion
on constant transmission
each mundane detail of each unremarkable day

It has been two years, three months, four days
and however many hours have passed in this Sunday
since we spoke
and now you take care of a baby that isn’t mine
that has your eyes and her hair
and is vastly less superior
than the shocking bluebell sweetness
that ours would have been

Amanda McDowell is a life-long lover of all things literature, and a relative newcomer to poetry. She has just finished her second 30/30 and is working on a world record for highest library fines. She gets up in the morning (ideally after 10 am) for things involving cheese, chocolate, whiskey, the promise of a nap, and Copernicus, her much-too-intelligent cat.

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The views and opinions expressed throughout belong to the individual artists and may or may not coincide with those of the other artists (or editors) represented within the magazine. Hobo Camp Review supports a free-for-all atmosphere of artistic expression, so enjoy the poetry, fiction, opinions, and artwork within, read with an open mind, and comment wisely. Thanks for stopping by the Camp!