we ran a plumb line down the chasm
perhaps thinking to balance bitterness
with renewed courtship:
flowers wine
a return to the start. unguarded
words recall aches and storms of
passion don’t invite the peace of a level line.
our vows refract broken glass.
can it matter if you lie and i don’t care?
trading on futures with promissory
for a rare, dear flower—
an ancient tulip trade—
leaves us with the bulb unwanted.
still, we plant and it grows after hard freezes:
royal promises.
but, unexpected frost gathers on green petals:
browning leaves wither:
the bulb is starved—
all that’s left: food for squirrels.
trades
Laura Johnson is a poet in eastern Iowa and is a coeditor of Backchannels. She participates in performance poetry and leads writing workshops in her community. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rosebud, High Shelf Press, and Prompt Press, among other.
So proud of this lady!
Perfect for the season upon us. Cycle of life.