The Shine Journal

Exceptional Flash, Poetry, Art and Photography!

The Gardeners

by

Connor Shioshita Pickett




A storm's coming,
and there's lightning in the east.
We'll breathe the forthcoming dust like
euphoric chain-smokers
and laugh.
you're bored I'm bored let's get drunk—
drunk on dust and summertime.

Maybe it will numb our
fabricated futility.
Hands held,
head back,
watching a brown sky through the
bottom of a brown bottle,

we're infants again
in a crib we
can't climb out of.
But this time we cry not to be fed
or changed,

this time we cry
to make the daisies grow

Wet seeds scattered on asphalt
put down no roots,
no matter how much we
hover over them.

And we water them often.
This time we cry not to be rocked,
or burped,

this time we cry
because we grew nothing but wilted weeds.

The lightning is overhead now,
so hold out your arms
like                    this
and
let it set us ablaze with new life.


In our new eyes, with new wisdom,
we can tend to our gardens with wine.
And we, the youth, will laugh
and speak


Motivation: "The Gardeners" is about suburban apathy; the media bombard the youth with dream-powered idealism but real creativity is frequently stifled and marginalized. The beauty of Monsoon storms rolling in over the city inspired the first stanza and the rest grew from it.

Bio:I am a newcomer to the online literary scene; I was raised in Chandler, Arizona, a little slice of suburban purgatory, and am attending college in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Some days I write poetry, often from ideas forged in Suburbia; other days, I apologize for it.

Click the pics to meet the members!

 

Editor: Pamela Tyree Griffin

Click button at right to get in touch.

Send to a friend

  

 

Share on Facebook

Share on Facebook