Kelly R. Samuels
Food of the brown-tail moth, that white-winged thing
that came & settled,
Never a flower I cared for.
Too hardy. Too practical in this impractical place where we ask ourselves why we stay. What keeps us.
Here they are shunning
too much water, their leaves yellowing, dropping to the floor
for me to note, alongside of.
Never a blossom brought then, picked from the roadside & given. Never the earth turned over along the front walk & made pretty
for me then. Or now.
Let me cut those green leaves that remain & brew
my tea & alleviate this ache here. & here.
Kelly R. Samuels lives and works as an adjunct English instructor in the upper Midwest. Her poetry has been nominated for Best of the Net, and has appeared or is forthcoming in various journals including Burningword, The Summerset Review, Kestrel, The Carolina Quarterly, Rappahannock Review, Construction, and Common Ground Review.