My flowers bloom in darkness. In bed, I finger the tendrils of creeping clematis that weave through my hair. Tiny bluebells push through my cuticles. My limbs are heavy with soil.

Weighted with barren fecundity, with a body that grows rich in violet blues and magenta reds and then spits them out, I walk to the drugstore, a string of petals strewn behind me. 

I hand the clerk the unopened pregnancy tests. I won’t be needing these anymore, I say. 

By the time I pass the barber shop on the tree-lined downtown, daffodils trail from my heels, and baby’s breath droops from my knuckles. I snap off the stems and throw them onto the sidewalk. 

Neighborhood children follow, whooping and hollering. They pause to gather bouquets.

Bugger off, I yell, but they stalk me to my house, and I lock the iron gate and bolt the door. They press their faces, pink with perspiration, to the windows. I yank the curtains closed. Vines spiral around the empty bassinet and the dusty copies of What to Expect When You’re Expecting and Be Fruitful.

My body itches with growth. Leafy fronds twist around my pale thighs, and yellow tulips wreath my pubic bone. Wisteria curls from the inside of my wrists, garlanding my forearms. I burrow into flesh to pull out the roots, the pain raw and exquisite, but the blooms only double in growth. 

Burdened with life that grows and dies, I pluck a rose from each tear duct, the thorns bloody. I extricate the woody stalks of calla lilies that thread the veins on my breasts and scars on my abdomen, each disentangled flower leaving a pearl of blood.

Outside, I dig into the damp, musky earth of my empty garden and fill each hollow with an extracted flower. Row upon row, I plant.

The children remain, rosebud noses pressed to the windows. I unlock the gate, and they burst into the garden now overflowing with purple-leaf coneflowers, scarlet dahlias, and fuchsia peonies. They crown my head with a garland of daisies, and a different kind of bud blossoms in my belly as the children leap through a rainbow of color, their voices echoing, their laughter scattering seeds everywhere.