In-Law

By Elizabeth Allison

She brought the orchid to the house when I miscarried
the second time
to let it speak of loss.
Her loss.
Scarlet droplets spotting pale yellow petals said
“You are my chance.”
Fat leaves curling into themselves cried
“I’ve only one child. I’ve only one shot.”
Wide purple lips, open to prey, unfurled her suspicions
“Maybe start eating meat? Maybe that’s why?” 
Spindly roots pushing to breath above soil 
spread woe of the would-be grandmother.
Her tired eyes never sought my own
did not see that air roots struggle skyward to latch 
never siphoning their host
surviving only on water and air. 
I helped her to the door
watched her crawl til she disappeared five doors down
shuffled to my soft chair 
to find a flower had already fallen
shriveled and sucked dry.

A former high school teacher, Elizabeth Allison is an avid traveler and sometimes-gardener. She has most recently been published in Intrepid Times, Burningword Literary Magazine, Emerge Literary Journal, Sojournal, Fairfield Scribes, 50-Word Stories, Defenestrationism, 101 Words and HuffPost. Her work can be found at thewriteprofile.com.