(to the smell of misfortune)

We present this work in honor of Chilean Independence Day.

Rosabetty Muñoz
Chilean
b. 1960

 

The aridity of the gardens
finally tired them all.
Nothing, not even carrots
would grow in that rocky soil.

Breaking your back for
a fistful of herbs.

And the flowers? You’ll say.
And those huge dahlias, like trees?
Don’t remind me of those carnivores.
They seemed to shine their petals
to the smell of misfortune.
They grew
opened
moved their stamens
as we steadily fell.

One thought on “(to the smell of misfortune)

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