Yucca

Aboveground, I am all blade, shedding filaments to keep my edges keen. I can go months & months without water. My connections to this sand- stone ridge run deep.

But I don’t know why when I blossom, nothing happens. My nights have never turned incandescent at the touch of fabled wings. My panicle is a pale flag that no one ever salutes.

This couldn’t be exile, could it? There’s desert enough here for those who wait. All through the dry season, my flower stalk’s bony shadow creeps over the smooth white drifts.