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.