The Whale, Chapter 2

The idea that came to Helga was one That could be dangerous or could be fun But first she would survey her rose garden And the general condition of the yard On this unusually warm first day Of the month of her birth in this year Of fever dreams and election insanities. Leaving her coffee cup half full, Helga followed her inner pull To the back door and out to the lawn. Sebastian the yard guy had been there The day before and as usual Helga Was both pleased with the overall tidiness And annoyed by the little signs of shirking. Sebastian, like most yard guys these days, Tended to increase the local malaise By employing a noisy leaf blower rather than The gold standard of raking. Which annoyed Helga. You have to choose Your battles, though, and Helga had Resigned herself to let it go. The lawn stretched out broad and green. That was good. But in between The edge of the lawn and the fence, Where the landscaping terraced down Towards the irrigation canal, the blower Had shunted a shin-deep layer Of paper-dry leaves and bonelike twigs. Helga glanced in that direction and thought A note left on the fence, that sought To catch Sebastian’s attention, next week, Might do the trick. And the lock to the gate, Meant not to be locked but merely put In place, was once again not put in place. That, too, would be gently mentioned. The Virginia Creeper that had swallowed Much of the tall gate and followed The path of the sun to try to consume The entire fence, made it a challenge To swing it wide and step through, Down the slope to the roses and grapes And assorted vegetation along the canal. Helga managed it, in small steps, Like doing physical therapy reps, And soon beheld the wilting splendor Of her beloved garden, its thorns visible, With petals littering the muddy ground, And the hard angle of autumn light Throwing life and death into sharp relief. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jopomojo.substack.com/subscribe