Superbloom, A Day After My Daughter’s Diagnosis
They call this extravagance a “spectrum.” The pack of lupine howling out a deep-throated blues. The fiddleneck’s golden arpeggio. The hoot of fuchsia emanating from a parliament of owl’s clover. Surely the wild hyacinth didn’t mean to bring me to my knees, but here I am brushing bugs from tiny petals as she wanders from…