Published in the Gardy Loo Literature & Arts Magazine Volume 23, Issue 2

The Flower that Owes Me Rent

A flower sits in my lawn

Waiting for me to mow.

Bees never come to spread its pollen

And it has given up on the life cycle.

Sometimes I hear it at night breathing heavily.

Sometimes it stares at me when I’m driving away.

I could just pluck it,

End its suffering,

Or I could sit with it,

And talk about the soil.

Winter is near,

And either way it’ll be gone.

I’ll miss it,

And it knows that.
I like to think that’s why

It hasn’t ripped off its petal.