planted by a friend, absent—
in his place I tended it. But it lacked
dirt and water. Shovels full from here
to there, so little to fill the holes
around the plants. And water, hose
stretched from the outside faucet
of my grandmother’s house,
to ease parched blooms and one broken
stem and blossom. “Maybe it will root,”
someone said, among the watching
brothers. I found a pot
and planted it.