Lilac the garden, not the same as me.
The holy china, baby blue adorn
forget me not for death of space — my space
The giving up of past to hold the hand
of God. This God, my God, reside amongst
the china. Smash the china, break the hold
of God. He takes tremendous space. Oh God.
Lilac, the shrub, she speaks to God for me
she says, she’s stuck against the laundry. Shut herself
in bitter dish-rag Heaven only to find alone.
Nora Rose Tomas is an interdisciplinary writer living in New York City. She is currently an MFA candidate at Columbia University. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Mantis, Small Orange, Rogue Agent, and The Observer, among others. You can follow her on Instagram @dr_sappho.
