Floral Wars

by Lisa Hartsgrove

For weeks I unwind

     Morning

          Glories

Image credit: Jael Coon on Unsplash

from the stems of Rudbeckia

and those blueish bow-tie flowers

I never remember the name of.

I’m terrible at remembering names.

I only remember Rudbeckia

from years of my mom correcting me

when I called them Yellow Daisies.

Rudbeckia, like a Rude Rebecca.

Rude because Daisies are my favorite.

But it’s the

     Morning

          Glories

that are the rudest.

Glorious like a war victory;

I remember them because they won’t let me forget.

Daily, I have to loosen their strangle.

I weigh their fingers down with rocks,

force them to grow along the ground

rather than reach toward the sun

by latching around the necks of others.

Their vines still flower between pebbles.

Each morning the garden floor blooms a greeting,

a greening turned purple, begging for violence

yet surviving without it.

Each morning, the flowers forget not to fight.

And each afternoon, I stop the war before it can begin again.

Nameless flowers thrive alongside these purple pops.

What is there to remember?

The

     Morning

          Glories 

keep trying to be

what they think they need to be

without realizing what they already are.

***

Lisa Hartsgrove

Lisa Hartsgrove is program coordinator for Project Write Now, a nonprofit transforming individuals, organizations, and communities through the power of writing. Among others, she has been published in Friday Flash Fiction, Honeyguide Literary Magazine, Discretionary Love, and The Pitkin Review. She also took first place in the 2019 Laury Egan HBAC Poetry Contest. You can read more about her at lisahartsgrove.com.