Gone are the immaculate
hibiscus, bottle brush, the tender
Japanese sweet flag
with its narrow, arching yellow leaves.
Gone is the green I spent
an entire Sunday planting, grooming,
coloring up the desert of my yard.
Stems dark the color of dried blood,
leafless now, in the tune of dying,
I dump each planter into the garbage pail.
Set the empties on the hard ground
where they can look at one another and weep.