The flower bud in my lobby
I plucked, coming in cold and numb.
Plum stolen from the vase,
And twisted against my thumb.
Elevator doors closed,
And the petals unpeeled:
Spring breeze through the tire swing,
Grass stained toes unconcealed.
My mother planted vegetables.
Beneath the soil, they hid.
In the suckling heat, few plants grew-
But these defiant flowers did
With old women’s mouths, wrinkled and proud:
Stamens of banana taffy
Cling to the roofs. Yellow
Dusted lower lips pouting at me.
I once found the buds beautiful,
Though they lack radial symmetry.
But I love them nonetheless-
She still plants snapdragons for me.