Instructions for a Lonely Flower by Lori Yamamoto

One stem is standing in the water mirror-bowl I turn it slowly— to the left, right feels too bold and I am not bold. I leave it alone because touching makes it scared like me in new shoes. The flower does not complain— it just leans a little west like it knows the way. Maybe tomorrow I will turn it one more time or maybe not— flowers don't check their watches, and neither should I, I think. So I leave it alone. The water is still. The stem is still. We are three shy things not needing to move.