A Time of Flowers

The afternoon shadows are long.
I’m pruning dead agapanthus heads
from glossy greenness.
There’ll be many months
before their lilac hearts burst again
on stalks of joy.
They’ll watch jealously
as the moraya hedge
flowers each time there’s rain,
snows its petals like confetti.

As I cut, I’m remembering
the way they exploded in the night
in early summer,
the murmur of your voice in my ear,
the dead sound of the suitcase closing.

Jane Frank lives and writes in Brisbane, Australia. Her poems have appeared in Australian Poetry Journal, Westerly, Writ, Snorkel, London Grip, Verity La and elsewhere. She teaches in Humanities at Griffith University in southeast Queensland.

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