Native

Banksia, Grevillea, Eucalyptus, Hardenbergia,
Bottlebrush, Wattle, Geraldton Wax.

There you all are
etched onto my skin.
Impressions from a flower press childhood.

Your soil, deep under my fingernails
seeped into my blood.
Your varied shapes and forms are my grandmother,
my father, mother, sisters, 
Me.

Your mini explosions trigger a thousand sneezes,
a thousand polaroids.
We are seemingly at odds, yet inextricable.

I meander the grid-like paths in my memory, 
linking species and time together.
Intersections of laughter and tears.

Now, the waratah stands tall. My insignia.
She adorns my walls, caresses my pillows.
Her fresh blooms, faultless,

Reminding me that rusted shadehouse green is my hue.