The Hibiscus Talked to Me
– after Chavali Bangaramma
She had questions that required
deep and political thinking. Surprised?
she asked and I was
ashamed though generous
with the water I gave, wanting
her life-force to exalt and fulfill me,
believing that to be her role.
I wanted her unfussed
by annihilation. I wanted her blousy
and loud, shattered
with singularity, lit as if by electricity.
She lived by the rule of three:
more color, more fragrance, more
size. But I was afraid to look
her in the eye. Large and seeping
color, it was a mouth possessed
by lipstick, a hypnotizing maw.
Out of it sprung a strange, long column,
an erotic yellow thing. She made me
flawed and fevered. I wanted to decide.
A big plant is like a big planet,
her petals red-veined and windswept,
creamy velvet, chiffon. If she must speak,
the world preferred her muted.
We don’t take ones like her seriously —
tropical yet short-lived,
showy because she knows
what her heart is, centered and swirling.
She’ll fade in the evening shadows,
sleep through the darkest winter of our lives.
![](http://carouselmagazine.ca/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/crsl_horsegears_1000px.jpg)
Anne Barngrover’s most recent poetry collection, Brazen Creature, was published with The University of Akron Press in 2018 and was a finalist for the 2019 Ohioana Award for Poetry. She is an assistant professor of English and Creative Writing at Saint Leo University and lives in Tampa, Florida. More: annebarngrover.com + Twitter at @Anne_Barngrover