You Do Your Best

Originally published in The Broad River Review Volume 49

The faux battlements
of the Kingdom Hall take on
a dramatic silhouette.
A tarp in a stiff wind
rippling, or some planks
dropped by workmen clap
together. Rain-wet concrete,
sawdust, and bits of nail.
The earth is bared
of green, and speckled
like a whale.

The great, fleshy tulip,
battered by the storm,
yellow petals each
big as your palm,
is just half a shattered
Snapple bottle,
cradled like your only
treasure on a tuft
of city weeds.