MINIMALISM
A gap between the hedges
Where nothing will grow--
Empty as the moon,
Barren as snow.
Even the grass is thin,
Naked earth showing through,
As if the soil were sick,
Or chary of giving life anew.
A year ago,
I brought an azalea here:
It withered upward from the root,
Leaves turning black and sere--
No nourishment
In this accursed space.
It died within the month.
I planted nothing in its place.
I leave it to its own–
Bare of foliage and plant,
A ground where emptiness grows,
And flowers can’t.
__________________________
Jack Peachum