cereus plant bloomed on Saturday night.
She sent word
after promising I could come see it.
I rubbed my gritty eyes with swollen hands.
My stomach grizzled as I
made my way through the dark
to her house.
Ma wouldn’t have let me go at all.
My father just stood in the doorway and
watched me leave.
It was almost three in the morning when I got there.
A small crowd stood around.
Mrs. Brown said,
“The blossom opened at midnight,
big as a dinner plate.
It took only moments to unfold.”
How can such a flower
find a way to bloom in this drought,
in this wind.
It blossomed at night,
when the sun couldn’t scorch it,
when the wind was quiet,
when there might have been a sip of dew
to freshen it.
I couldn’t watch at dawn,
when the flower,
touched by the first finger of morning light,
wilted and died.
I couldn’t watch
as the tender petals burned up in the sun.
September 1934