I don’t know their names; not the ones that are tiny, grow by the side of the road, some even pushing their way to the sun through cracks in the pavement. They are thin, palest green with orange heads or the purple ones that cling to the ground, to each other like pearls in a brooch. I don’t know if I want to name them. I call the purple ones Sweetie and the orange headed are My Dears. I give them water when the sun goes down. What if I discovered their names were ugly, harsh on the tongue? What if I found out they were poisonous so someone was sent to pull them out? What if I was chastised for slaying their thirst, told that they would multiple, break the concrete, take over the road, what then? So I lie, say I didn’t know such small things could bring so much destruction or that the road was not meant to be strewn with flowers.
Charlene Moskal
I am a Teaching Artist with the Poetry Promise Organization, Las Vegas, NV. I‘m published in numerous anthologies, print magazines, and online, including, “Calyx”, “Gyroscope Review”, “Tiny Seed”, “Exposition Review” and “Humana Obscura”. My first chapbook is “One Bare Foot” (Zeitgeist Press, 2018) with a second, “Leavings From My Table”, (Finishing Line Press, 2022) and a third from Kelsay Books in Fall, 2023.