His flowers are beginning to bow.
Suppose they feel reverent rather than sick.
Suppose they’re honoring his practice
of tending to flyaway trash, or the way
he loves his woman. Those petals hear
everything. Suppose they’re removing
their colorful shoes, falling to kneel, to pray
in agreement, to echo the wail of human
begging. Suppose his neighbor does not visit.
Suppose she’d say all the wrong words.
She wanders at night with a watering can
instead. Suppose he awakens to a miracle.
Cyndie Randall holds a BA in Creative Writing/Poetry and an MA in Counseling. Her words have appeared or are forthcoming in Love’s Executive Order, Okay Donkey, Kissing Dynamite, Ghost City Review, Yes Poetry, Barren Magazine, and elsewhere. Cyndie works as a therapist and lives among the Great Lakes. Find her on Twitter @CyndieRandall or at cyndierandall.com.