I am not sure how I forgot,
but I did.

The peace lily

by the toaster

and the pang of guilt

one feels on the heels
of neglect.

The faucet rains
until gravel floats

and by nightfall, green leaves
reflect moonlight.

I am forgiven. Forgiven
the way we give ourselves

permission to return
to ourselves.


One thought on “Revival

  1. it there a poetic term for the poem doing the very thing it’s about?
    here,the peace lily—you’ve forget to water it, but you remember it’s latin name. it’s ensconced next to the toaster shriveled and contracted. in desperation it’s faucetted until its gravel floats and bobs. so far, the imagery has been mundane, commomplace. but come nightfall, the lily’s expansive green leaves are reflecting the moon’s light into the kitchen (and into the side of the toaster, who reflects it futher?).
    the imagery of this poem, its language and its perceptions mirror the transformation of its lily; and also the transformation wrought by forgiveness—for both the forgiven and the forgiver.

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