hot house it was, too small
the four of us, who bloomed too early
pots too small, were overfed,
quickly, before it was too late.
struggled to blossom prettily
become the right color and shape
the most pleasing fragrance
seems, though, that in the hot,
cramp of childhood there was
much heat, roots too shallow,
maybe our seeds weren’t right
produce those blooms.
we tried to put down deeper roots,
find good soil, nurture the tiny shoots
could become the unique bloom of
lives. We tried to stop seeking
gasp of admiration from strangers
revel in our own odor, love
thorny stems, jagged leaves, sometimes
flower heads, and
our own patchwork hues.
we succeed, and dance and nod
the gracious breeze of evening,
we are lovely, pleased
other times, when we are asleep,
of the most beautiful and most beloved
haunt our dreams, and
awaken once again as weeds.
- PRESENT TENSE
- IN THE DARK