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Laurie Petersen

Still I haven’t learned
to keep things alive outside

though I see how a seed
with something to say only

wants a warm dark. A long
light. Stuff likes to grow,

my ex-friend said to me, then
all we grew was askew. I know

about soil, how it saves
itself in its loss, I wish I were

that way too. It’s not that
nothing new will unfold, but

once it starts it won’t stay
without something more

from me and if I can’t even
keep that amity I still miss,

how could I ever expect
to animate a flower?