I am wildflower, a flame azalea drawing its roots up from the asphalt - an ox-eyed daisy, ox-blood and whirling, hair like the tops of cogon grass caught in a westward wind. My head will come back to me in September, chased by the tornadoes from across the Plains; it will catch me up in time for hurricane season when I will don my hat again to keep my head from spinning and to ward off further freckling.
Azi Zrian












