ISSUE E3 | Poetry | June 2021

Two Poems

Kenneth Pobo

Petaled Geography

We grow plants uncommon in

Pennsylvania. Like cotton.

Cotton bolls, our own bit of Georgia.

Did they miss red soil? And plumeria,

Hawaii in a container. Salmon-colored

blossoms. We’ve never been to Hawaii

so we brought it here. Red adeniums,

Madagascar beside our shed.

Tall Mexican sunflowers call to us

each morning. Orange, a song

which they will teach us. Mexico

on a thick stalk. In late fall,

I take in what can’t survive.

Geography warm by our window,

countries by a watering can.

Witch

Hey–I am above your head.

You look for a broomstick

that I never needed.

I am travel.

I appear where I like.