My vision withers in the Lowe’s garden center.
The apartment complex next door is wailing
with smoke detectors. I am flooded with red
panic, I am reeling into the tangle of mandevillas.
It is 90 degrees Fahrenheit and I feel volatile,
near syncope, memories strobing in the heat.
Hide my body in the soil bags, let me shut down.
The humidity is painted with sirens. Bury my head
like a flower bulb, the only peace is underground.
It will be silent there. None of these countless alarms.
I can burn without all the noise. I can sit like a rock,
legs crossed, stoic little dove, waving away the saviors.