Plants

I don't know the names of all the plants

but I do know the one

as closely as a roommate

which pours over in little white puffballs

like a bunch of white grape

And I know the one which peels open like a tongue

to reveal a yellow mohawk on the inside

of a purple house, like the one from my dream,

with paper walls that line the ceiling,

the little hairs inviting me to sleep

if only I was tiny

And I know the one with its red funnels,

like ears, listening for spring, again,

which must descend from somewhere I can’t go

where flowers have no names

where they shake in their colors

like flags in the wind