F L O W E R I N G

Traffic Stopped
Horns Blared
She Stood Unmoving
Mid Cross-Walk

It Was Rush Hour
Friday
She Refused

They Were Native
Americans
She Began Singing
Old Negro Spirituals

The Crowd Began
Chanting
“Creeper! Creeper!! Creeper!!!”

A Tomahawk Landed
To Chop
Her Wrists

Not Her Veins
Only The Creeper
Vines Of Existence

She Stood Unmoving
Mid Cross-Bearing

It Was Hush Hour
Holding Five Fingers
She Refused