for Nanette
I wish I could tell you now
that you were right—
after two years
the pineapple head you had thrown
in the backyard has grown
and in fact, the strange
bromeliad is now the throne
of a lovely little piña,
still magenta in the base,
but already wearing a crown.
It competes with the thorns
and constant flowering
of the pink euphorbia beside it.
Also, the golden bamboo
you planted in the clay pot
to keep it portable
has broken through and proudly
taken root, right beside
the bougainvillea that had threatened
to die when the carpenter
chopped it down
to a stump.
It now bursts madly
into fuchsia revenge.
You have always known
it would all come to this,
didn’t you?
My wilderness of a garden
is profuse with paradoxes
and I grow lush
with a hundred eyes.