Swizzle Stick

dead-heading

I am dead-
heading the
browning
flowers,
snipping
them off,
making way
for growth

I attack
the gardenias,
fragrant
meringues
never white,
exactly,
warmer, waxier,
now with crisp
curling
sepia edges;

tired flowers,
heavy, still
holding
their heady scent
in quiet
desperation

I clip each
one, feet
in growing
confetti,
& discover,
hiding up
the back,
down low,

one survivor
flower,
bright, still
white, &
terrified




April 2: Focus on a leaf or a flower