Friday, February 19, 2021

Rosebush by Ginny Wood

I heard the hose running,
pushed through the busted backyard gate
and saw the green snake of it spilling
onto the root bed of a skeletal rosebush,
a puddle at the base of a wraith.
I told her to shut it off. Stop wasting water.
That was the last time I saw my mother.

Ginny Wood is a former English teacher originally from the Carolinas who now resides in Redding, Connecticut. She earned an MAT in Secondary English from University of South Carolina and a Master in School Administration degree from the University of North Carolina. Her favorite pastime--other than writing poetry--is entertaining her Boston terrier, Daisy.

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