Gorse

Steph Ellen Feeney

for Jenny

Say a woman presumes

to know another woman

well enough.

Say whatever it is I’m cupping

afraid

even the gentlest airing

will snuff it—

say I let her

peek.

I still wear the scent

she gave me that first

Christmas her son

brought me home—a weed,

citrine winking

from its tumble of thorns.

Hers is the scent

of small things

breathing

looked-after breaths,

of scattered seed,

not once in a while

but everyday.

Of sugar water,

a cradled bee.

STEPH ELLEN FEENEY was born in Louisiana, and raised in Texas and now calls Suffolk home. Her poems have appeared in The Poetry Review, Gutter, Anthropocene and Propel Magazine, amongst others. Her debut collection, Small Change, is out in 2026 with Broken Sleeps Books.