Never Seen Hydrangeas in Person
by Dante Clark
What am I more afraid of? Losing you, or being
alone? I’m eavesdropping. You speak lovingly
about me in the next room—although
the discord. I’m pretending. Faking sleep.
Staring out the bedroom window. Glass portal
to a fed up sky. In the phone, you say he’s doing good.
And it’s funny, how casually we lie.
The answer to how are you is never really how one feels.
Isn’t it? It’s usually good. And what could be good
about a forced smile when the pillars of your face are crumbling?
I’m listening, like you always asked me to. Eavesdropping.
Counting the trees outside as they beg the stormy winds to stop.
I wonder about a fallen leaf. I wonder about the weight
of heavy rain. How the downpour spares no mercy.
And, will the green leaf do the human thing once I ask
how's it going? Fine, though the forest is drowning?
Fine, though I’m wondering how long you’re gonna love me
in this apartment that’s held onto our hot noise? Here,
in our little neighborhood behind the parks. The trees.
The plants that vary so much in species, I can’t begin
to tell you their names. Aren’t poets supposed to know their flowers?
Dante Clark (he/him) is a writer, musician, and actor from the Bronx, NY where he's usually waxing poetic about grief, fart jokes and wine (what a combination). A two-time Pushcart nominee, his work has been featured in The Root, Afropunk, wildness, Brooklyn Poets’ Poet of the Week, The Slowdown, and elsewhere. Clark graduated from Hunter College with a BA in creative writing and he has the student loan debt to prove it. He’s performed his poetry at venues like the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, the Bowery Poetry Club, The Montauk Club, and his living room (much to the chagrin of his downstairs neighbors). Clark’s also received support from organizations including Catapult, Cave Canem, and In Surreal Life where he served as a co-fellow for the 2021 sessions. Along with wanting to free the land, Dante just wants to create in a world where all his homies can prosper.