by Laurie Kuntz

For all the springs
it bloomed, my favorite flower
went unnamed.

Growing in the garden of strangers,
I called the unknown clusters,
purple ladle, lavender lattice, horns of azul—
All inventions in my floral eye.

The nameless possess a perennial persistence,
an uncalled promise.

Not knowing if he would survive,
in a world he entered too soon,
my son went unnamed for weeks.

The nameless are constant companions,
secure in the wisdom of all that is possible,
which brings a calling, such as

the periwinkled foxglove
and Noah, my son—
Both named for the persistence of their bloom.

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Laurie Kuntz has published six poetry books. Nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize, she won one in 2024. She has also been nominated twice for Best of the Net. She's published widely in magazines such at Sheila-Na-Gig, Gyroscope Review, One Art, Anti Heroin Chic, and others. Her themes come from working with Vietnamese refugees, living in Japan, the Philippines, Thailand, Brazil, raising a husband and son, and loving her 12 cats and two dogs. See lauriekuntz.myportfolio.com/home-1.