t’s an August evening in the garden

and I’m reading about nyctinasty,

why some flowers close their petals

for the night, when the lantern I nailed

in place this afternoon starts to tremble

in an irreverent breeze, and I remember

years ago, waiting for the bus to school,

when a rusty nail jutting out

of a discarded plank, caught my eye.

I don’t know what impelled me then

to stab my foot on it, hard as I could. ...click here to READ MORE