Closing the Parks
We’re going to pick the Irises
maybe for the last time
You said this with a laugh
The orange tree needed pruning
and the grass had grown too long
Walking on through the plots
I gassed about how much we’d lose
All of the things wasted
gone from under your nose
Blackbird songs at 8 in the AM
the sun coming up through the fountain
The playing field wide open
like a question mark
Not forever
(You said this with a smirk)
And we went on picking Irises
We cut the grass down
Carried on feeding the birds
Stopped every now and then
Attempted to exchange words
about what we would do
when it was all over
And we ate up spring
like nobody’s business
And in one hot moment
The garden was silent
The world too
by Laura Sutcliffe