She doesn't want your flowers, woman.
Even in cold, dead, Winter
no comfort to her.
Will never understand cutting off
and trying to preserve, to display.
“What's the point?” She'll say
as she throws them out any window.
“This all will end.” She'll say.
With her eyes, “Maybe not tomorrow.
No, not yet today. But someday.
Nothing stays.”

This world is not enough for her,
this raped, plundered planet:
She's looking to outer space-
But even there!
There is no place free
completely of the human race.

She can see forever in your face,
She can take a moment in a moment's taste,
She could live and die for you;
comfort, shout, kill, cry for you, woman.
But while doing so, say
“What does it matter, anyway?”
Flora and Fauna, Life
Crawling to hobbling
In between mortal drama:
Eternal crisis-
Nothing stays.

So, with all matters great and small
she'll kiss you and softly say-
“What does it matter, anyway?”

Gabrielle (gabi) Hasler graduated from Saint Mary of the Woods College in 2012 with a degree in Psychology. She has since worked many odd jobs and had several (small) existential crises and bouts of melancholy. She enjoys writing poetry, reading and most other solitary pursuits, with the occasional sprinkling of social interaction. She has been macking on the ladies and marching with the rainbow squad since roughly 2002.