Another Metaphor for the Heart
I water my black calla lily—
leaves like swords,
petals velvety with darkness.
A dewdrop
rests at the tip of a flower—
because gravity has nothing
on water tension.
When the sun hits this way—
like it does in August—
I say, it’s okay to thrive,
soaking the ground around her until it bleeds.
Kelsey Jordan holds an MFA in Writing from Pacific University. Read more.