Morning Glories in Miami
By Lynne Barrett
The hard seeds I soaked and then forgot till nearly rotten, and, oh well, pressed in sandy soil that promised nothing, unfurl—surprise!—a pale green fingertip, reaching toward a dangling string. Here I’d hesitate, but at first touch she curlicues, two, three, six, seven. So prettily lashed, she ascends, then fans a leaf shape memorized among the Aztecs, a heart extended. (Yes, I looked her up. The cuter cousin of the sweet potato.) Gulping sun, she soon finds the willow storm-wrecked chaise lounge I’ve contrived into a lattice, attached (poorly) to our nineteen-thirties stucco. A transplant myself, I gloat over each sunrise’s progress. Pursued, then overtaken by swarming sisters, the vine explores, repairs, disguises. My mother told me I had no green thumb, but that was in another state. In Florida, any thumb will do. Fat glossy hearts cloak the wall this morning, when the most ambitious climbers, finding only sky to grasp, lift trumpets buzzing blue.
Lynne Barrett is the author of Magpies (gold medal, Florida Book Awards) and editor of Making Good Time, True Stories of How We Do, and Don’t, Get Around in South Florida. Her recent work appears in Orange Blossom Review, The Hong Kong Review, New Flash Fiction Review, Necessary Fiction, River Teeth, and Grabbed: Poets and Writers on Sexual Assault, Empowerment, and Healing. She lives in Miami and edits the Florida Book Review.
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Lynne Barrett's poem on Morning Glories in Miami is thrilling, moving, and beautifully written. Thank you, posters, and thank you Swwim!