Everything Was Daffodil

Kimberly Ann Southwick

Now iris, the muscadine pruned, the wisteria
razed. Now it’s supposed to be azaleas, not

hard freeze, but the weather prediction says twenties
so bedsheets drape the bushes like ghosts. They’ve barely

peeled open from buds, & we fear overnight
they’ll drop. It’s not that I forget to pay

the mortgage, it’s that I forget to pay the mortgage
until it’s 10pm, & that’s 1 hour too late, the bank’s website says.

It’s not that I mean to run the future lilies over
with my car, it’s that they’re in my parking space.

The ajuga, the daisies, the dandelion, it’s their time, too,
the lawn alight in new color.

The holly is asleep. The baby is asleep.
The mortgage will have to be paid late.

I will call tomorrow, say time is relative, point out how 
I was even abiding within the bounds of a traditional day.

I will mail them an azalea, if the cold doesn’t brown them,
tuck in a tuft of the dog’s black fur when she begins to shed.

Kimberly Ann Southwick is an Assistant Professor of Creative Writing and English at Jacksonville State University. Her first full-length collection, Orchid Alpha, is forthcoming from Trembling Pillow Press. Kimberly is the founder and Editor in Chief of the literary-arts journal Gigantic Sequins. Find her on twitter @kimannjosouth or visit her website for more.