[when a cactus comes undone,]

by Jordan Trethewey

“undone, for me, it’s too late to be this boy lusting for the man he will become.”

-Diane Seuss, frank: sonnets

When a cactus comes undone,

rot hides below ground for

who knows how long? Until someone like me

finds it horizontal, rootless. It’s

green, but empty, too.

Empty like a metaphor, conclusion late

arriving, thumbtacked on to

cork board. I am far too grey to be

green. Love to be horizontal, though. This

is more rest than wink, wink. Yet, boy!

I still love the wink, wink—lusting,

now and then. The hope rises for

a moment, then is lost, to the

lullaby radio sounds curated by man

in a lonely room. Pushing buttons, he

sends out songs that speak, will

nourish emergent roots. Become.

Click here to read Jordan’s bio.