Black Bat Flower

Poem by Jeffery Allen Tobin

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it was late,
the bottle was empty, and the night was
thick like a sticky dream.
there you were,
a Black Bat Flower,
in the back alley of the garden.

most folks don’t see you,
don’t know you,
don’t care.
They’re busy with their roses and daisies,
their trimmed hedges and neat lawns.

but you—
you’re the secret whiskey of the plant world,
dark, unapologetic,
blooming when no one’s looking,
a middle finger to the sun.