 |
| Monotropa uniflora |
the flower that grows in the dark
What we define
as human tenderness troubles
each of us
differently.
Ada Limon
for Ruthie
it’s not just the
ghost
flower rising
white as hairless
mice but last
night’s
spider come to
cat’s-
cradle the tips
of the little
globes
barely latched stitches
here
seen just post dawn. something
in this simple
resilience
is akin, given
the decay
of the place, to
a quiet
moving through,
up by
last fall’s old
growth
going slowly back
to soil. imagine how they are
pushing up from
below
their very
bottoms
and casting their
lots
casting off true
into any wind or
humidity
what chance or
small winged
thing may latch,
flit a bit
in the stick, or picture
it, someone
leaning in after
that, to
examine it for a
wound,
and seeing naught,
to let it go.
