When I say zinnias do you see them,
Mexico colors, in high Kansas summer
behind the red brick garage? Is your mother
freckling in the sun, holding the green
garden hose gushing water into the bed,
making creamy mud shine like icing?
Do the monarchs light and flutter
from frilled bloom to bloom?
And can you lift them as your father
taught between your first grade fingers,
set one on each shoulder, and
walk into the house wearing wings?
All that summer and deep
into September, will you visit zinnias
hunting for plundered flight?
— Lori Brack
Lori Brack’s work has appeared in The Packingtown Review, North American Review, Rosebud, and other journals. Her first chapbook, a poetic script for a work of performance art in collaboration with artist Ernesto Pujol, A Fine Place to See the Sky, was published in 2010.
2 thoughts on “14. At the Museum of Flowers”
hi there Lori! lovely poem! vivid detail and vision! love it…can you guess my two fav thought lines?
Mexico colors in high kansas summer
as your father taught between your first grade fingers,
mmmmm nice very nice! and congrats! the pic is great too!
my project as of January..to keep my writing thoughts and photography up -i am combining them- and taking a photo daily and writing from it,,,,,couple of days has been a challenge for me but thats what it is all about huh!
Really nice poem, Lori. Zinnias, Mexican colors. I saw them instantly. Creamy mud, perfect. Reminds me of my Aunt Evelyn’s garden.