Dear Melody: I must tell you that in school today I planted a flower
single stem green leaf
on the roof of this city apartment
deep in concrete wires.
I hope you are in your garden when you receive this letter
plucking every last weed out like the devil's virus
your knees painted with dirt crumbs and pink worms.
Hawaii's palms wilt around your bonnet head
as you pat down each seed
tucking them in like children.
It is art.
How is your art, Melody? And why can I not paint as you can?
Graffiti on my streets is the closest I can get
to the murals you paint around Hawaii's sunsets
I'm sure I will never kiss twilight like you do.
Never see colors vibrantly
while you blow glass into honey pink and gold.
I have never seen a tint like Hawaii's red sun
Only stains on sanitary napkins or classroom chairs.
Only a flower never bloomed.