finding meaning in reverse

a spray of red and gold asters
in a suncolored goblet wiggles in a breeze
from the fan in the doorway of a violet
colored bathroom.


it's peaceful here now
there's no one but me

down the street, she's starting another
adventure. memories begin to tangle

together, hers & mine. how different
the times we weren't together. she remembers
her dad making her live with him, the structure
she craved, my permissiveness a wild card
lining her pockets with ill gotten booty.

she's going to have her own soon, but now
she's got a teen. his. did you know, he said
my father always used his fists
to speak to me. i don't want to be him
and he sobs into his can of beer
and his knee hurts and his heart is broken
by what men are capable of.

when the boy challenges him, he strikes him once.
only once. a dam breaks
floods him, his valley goes under.

tonight the moon was not out. the palm
in the front yard didn't rattle, there was
no wind. paradise was tired, even the heat
abated. natty light cans gleam
in the streetlight. a computer tower rusts
on the front porch. a high chair and stroller
sit on the patio collecting dirt. bits of trash
sit under the stars, occluded by city
lights, a pepper plant thrives and some kind
of flower springs up in a small clay pot.
it has not bloomed. we don't know
what was sown nor if it will survive
this drought. no rain in days. if only
his eyes could be clouds.