It’s Springtime,
I billow out
to plant roses with seeds
from a 99 cents store

I’m a puff of cloud,
a discernible mist,
and I plant
on rocky terrain

Soon, I’ll cover, I’ll cover
the pathways,
the grave stones,
the bed sheets,

the bottom
of the clawfoot bathtub,
with petals
sainted with my patience

For now, I dissipate, conjoin
with wind, buy a wicker basket,
and leave my change
on the counter

I fade, I fade
into the desert sunset,
into a sweet fragrance,
into a black and clear night,

into nothingness,
like my pots of thorny skeletons
after the last sweltering summer
put an end to my initial bloom

The bell chime
above the shop’s door
rings in effigy,
following me home

© Jennifer Patino (2018)

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