Agnes Marton and Amy Tingle

Amy Tingle
Inspiration piece

By Agnes Marton

Some petals are ambitious,

life and lifelike,

keen to attack, build purging

barriers when needed,

always at cruising altitude,

eager to respond.


Some petals are lost,

feel misfit, sleepy and derailed,

probably thoroughbred, somewhat blemished,

ever-changing but repeating,

their blurred edges come

with a trembling sense of motion,

getting through time headfirst.


Some petals are platelets,

facets of the whole,

strolling, sauntering,

ready to bloom,


keeping their discoid shape, proud,

until the fulfilment of

sphering, cytoplasmic extensions,

ending up looking like fried eggs,

a monolayer on the surface,

forming plugs and fibrinogen bridges.


Some petals just want to be spared,

sometimes too shocked to shout, some-

times all winky smileys, euphoric,

with microtubule coils like old phone dials,

chit-chatty subfilaments of hollow tubes.

Finally they are also blobbed in;

they reach out too and find the bond,

flapping like lazy laundry late spring.



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