Shadows, Hibiscus Shes waiting under wide jade leaves that don't belong in this city, at this latitude. Too bright. A fine piped-in silver mist cant obscure them. Executive suites pay the bill for fat stems filled with rainforest water, great toothed leaves like fans at rest. And there she sits exotic, waiting for you, two amber eyes behind a tropical plant. Shes learned to be invisible. Can you see her? The young men with shiny black duffles slung on their shoulders dont, the white shirts dark pants the money in their pockets. The bumpy old woman with mop and brushes, the ancient beige gentleman who's pushing trash -- they know this place to its crevices but they haven't discovered her. A black- &-white prowl car sweeps the parking lot and misses. From behind, she stirs the leaves enough to remind you of a breeze. There isn't any, and yet she breathes, two eyes behind a plant that shouldn't grow here. Taylor Graham
If you have any comments on this poem, Taylor Graham would be pleased to hear from you.