How the Petals Seem the Same


In the field, there

where the shadows of iris

bloom, my mother sings

with the iris, her voice

the color of deep purple,

her songs, the silk

of their long tongues.

She makes night

sleep all day

in the stem of the iris,

the ones they plant in the ground

with flower seeds in spring,

the ones they give to daughters

in the bloom of night.