Brown Thumb

How many times have I

plucked a flower clean,

waiting for an answer?

There is only one type of growing

when a flower meets me:

The size of

the pile

at my feet.

My thoughts sit and rot

while I move on to the next plant.

I am busy styling it,

scrutinizing each petal

until

am I even holding a flower?

Once I tried to put one in a vase

but it was dry and still

as a picture.

They are much more beautiful

swaying with the breeze

in someone else’s garden.