by Janice Lobo Sapigao

A coleus plant will bloom flowers when it is stressed and nearing the end of its life cycle. The plant knows it will die if continued exposure to unfavorable conditions continues, so it blooms to produce seed.

When you look for something,
you’ll find it where it isn’t.

I interpreted the tiny lime-colored
bouquet as growth. I sent its

silhouette to the group chat
proclaiming its bloom as mine.

When I wonder why my mother
preferred plastic plants, I think about

how it’s beautiful to want to give something
to the world they think they’re leaving

and how gardening websites suggest
pinching, which is cutting the flowers off

so the plant can spend its energy on
leaf growth—or wing span—or flight

to sprout is to flash a sign of life,
which is actually of near-death, of

the last thing she asked me for was
“coffee,” of compost, of cutting

Nurses and doctors’ emails often said our
beloved experience a surge of energy

When I wonder how else she will show up
I find her there flourishing.

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Janice Lobo Sapigao (she/her) is a poet from San José, CA. She is the author of two books of poetry, microchips for millions (Philippine American Writers and Artists, Inc., 2016) and like a solid to a shadow (Nightboat Books, 2017). She is the 2020-2021 Santa Clara County Poet Laureate.