POEM: Frangipanic Empathy

I watch a frangipani blossom --
its elegant five twisted petals 
swept downstream,
drifting toward the smooth laminar lip
that rolls over the cascade.

And I feel a teensy queasy,
watching it be lifted and whipped
over the edge.

As if I were it,
and it were me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.