
a desert rose:
its base stout & misshapen;
its blooms elegant

a desert rose:
its base stout & misshapen;
its blooms elegant

twisted skeletons
of once thriving trees stand
in the temple yard



waves crash
against the cliff base,
& are turned back

flowers glow brightly
in the sunset’s low light,
and then go dark

It doesn't need wide open spaces. It doesn't need direct sunlight. No bark-wide chasm through the tombstone -- Gardner, leave that tree alone. Hey, Gardner, leave that tree alone! All in all, it's just another fig in the wall. All in all, we're just a bunch of figs in the wall.
The final flower falls to the sidewalk. It's damp and deformed, -n- sugared with sand. It's gritty and pretty at the same time. The ants are crawling around and across. A faintly putrid scent must call to them. They crave that little bit of death in food. And tomorrow it'll be gone -- somehow -- gone. Who knows where: swept up, carried, or wind-blown. It will be gone, and branches will be bare.