So much more to tell.
The omissions begin to wilt
like flowers after the guests have left.

The tic you think is a wink,
the quivering eyelid, occurs
when he gets to the fire-escape.

Everyone lives, you know.
It seems to happen everywhere
and every year his daughter grows young.

The part when she smells the smoke,
the moment the alarm goes off,
doesn’t really matter any more.

What he tends to water grows,
little shoots, spindly at first,
then twisting till finally coming out.

Forum Comments:The Storyteller
Image Credit:Farm5static
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Larry Jordan’s work has appeared frequently on PoetryCircle as well as in Comstock Review, Pirene’s Fountain, Red Savina Review, Straight Forward, Miller’s Pond, Antiphon, and others. He also had a poem nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Larry passed away in September 2016. He lived and wrote in South Carolina.

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