Yesterday I answered to Dahlia. The day before, Poppy. Still longer ago I turned when familial voices called for Lilly, Iris, or Rose. A teacher at P.S. 113 once instructed me to write Cammy on the board. Short for Chamomile, she told the other properly named children. I complied and began to write but her syllables did not feel mine and I could not tolerate the chalk dust on my fingers. This made me believe that budding calls were not mine. That I was plant not petal. Most probably ground cover or an invasive species. For my lifetime I believed it so. But then I remembered that Fern and Ivy did not grow from where I did, though many other things took root in the cracked sidewalks of Queens. Things I can now properly identify after finally allowing myself water, sun, and seasons of rest, which makes me certain that although raised by reluctant gardeners I am not now, nor have I ever been, foliage. I always have been flowering.
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Beth Kanter’s work has appeared in X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine; Emerge Literary Journal; Identity Theory; Unbroken; and Cease, Cows. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her chapbook Slasher was a finalist in the 2024 Lefty Blondie’s First Chapbook Award contest and shortlisted by Black Sunflowers Poetry Press and Yellow Arrow Publishing. When not writing, Beth teaches CNF workshops.