Bryan Byrdlong
Strange Flowers
In the flower beds: Begonia’s, Baby’s breath,
Black-eyed susan’s, Bland, Brown. This block
where Black lives used to live. I walk cautious
as names pop out of the ground like bulbs in spring.
A bizarre prismatic, a language of blues, lilacs
inferring the people in this house believe in beauty,
believe in what matters. This house that makes
the distinction between the flower and weed’s
indiscernible. This lawn has em’. This lawn doesn’t.
It shouldn’t matter, yet the science is real.
Researchers find gardening has a similar effect
on happiness as dining out, biking. Walking,
I wonder how long these curious blossoms have
before they fall to the white burial of winter snow.
Or, if they’ll emerge from earth and soil next spring,
perennial, a new name added, this diversity
a strength for property values. I suspect few
will invite the stigma inside, by the kitchen
window, in the foyer, in the bedroom,
in the bed. I imagine fewer will let them rest.
Bryan Byrdlong reads “Strange Flowers”
Bryan Byrdlong is a Black poet from Chicago, Illinois. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from the Helen Zell Writers Program. He has been published in Guernica Magazine, The Kenyon Review, and Poetry Magazine, among others. Bryan received a 2021 Ruth Lilly and Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Fellowship from the Poetry Foundation. He is currently a PhD student in Creative Writing at USC in Los Angeles. His debut book Strange Flowers is forthcoming from Yes Yes Books.