Turning
Every rusty nail, driven into the earth
near hydrangea roots, is a trick
for turning pink petals blue.
I’m not convinced. Oh, we are
schemers and shortcut dreamers,
craving papery gills tinged
with elusive hues—periwinkle and ultramarine,
tea green, tipped with rose.
Wreaked by frost heaves,
over time, those nails erupt,
slash the bare hands of the gardener
…blood, the hot bloom of tetanus.
Is there another way?
Swamp the warming loam
with alum suspended in water—
basic salt, the most delectable seasoning.
You only get one life.
—Laurie Klein, author of Where the Sky Opens
