Poetry by William F. Buford

Flower Pot Powering A Flower Boom

I came in late to find it lurking right there on the table
making a flowerpot explosion! Bam!

Cool it for a while, you said. Let it find itself. Let it end up
back in one piece, so it’s easy to look at it again.

I stand back, sit down, sidle up, look inside out and crosswise
but gosh darn finally decide I like it just the way it is.

You usually find out just that way how most real things agree to go ahead
letting you see inside their secret self like that:

Boom!
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A Double Nuclear Meander

How many tiny involucral turning blooms
are left for one trim heartbeat?
leaving the rest to turn in on itself
in macroscopic novae explosions
to fling out all the empty space between.

Here at home we’re waiting for our own fulcrum to turn
inside its tiny orbit, pulling all these
other blossoms together to make enough room
for this more touching space between
in leafy aplomb, breaking no rules for peace.