Rainflowers

I regret not taking many pictures in China. This one is borrowed from here.

Rainflowers

Red city—

Rusted metal, russet bricks,

Stringy weeds masquerading as grass on
Playing field of cardamom-colored clay.

No sunflowers here.

Watch for rainflowers.

Fuschia, cobalt, goldenrod, lime,

Bobbing above slender, black-haired stems

Tugged by winds of tardiness.

Thousands of blossoms

Sprout from window grates,

Rooted by handles

Thrust hastily between schoolhouse bars.
Abandoned, they drip down the wall,
Casting rainbow shadows through windowpanes,
Illuminating textbooks until lunch.

While it rains, the air is clean—

Clean enough for flowers.

They shrivel away with the return of

Red sunshine glowing through smog from

Motorcycles, buses, factories,

Soot from burning garbage.