Poem in PENDEMIC – A Gardener Imagines Death…

A GARDENER IMAGINES DEATH DURING THE PANDEMIC, 2020

Is this what I will see:

against a haze of blue a yellow iris

− spear among green blades −

calling me upwards from my final stumble;

no time to name them, each one

and everything I’ve loved, but a yellow

that is all that yellow is

assuming me? Or

eyes behind a visor, summoning me

towards all that human is?

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Angela Graham