This one is, uh, for Mary Oliver. I didn’t know she had passed on.
Callalily. Walking tonight, watching the plants, sharing moments in space with them. I looked inside a Callalily and saw a fat, yellow striped, black bumblebee curled around the heart of the flower. She is sleeping. I didn’t know they slept in flowers. I didn’t think they slept at all.
I wanted to awaken her. She is a harvest moon inside a callalily. I wanted to awaken her. But I didn’t. It wouldn’t be right. Besides, as she is, as she sleeps in peace with the sky as her blanket, and cotton pedals as her pillow, as she sleeps undisturbed, we are one.
(Sound of a cell door closing.) These commentaries are recorded by Noelle Hanrahan of Prison Radio.