helianthus raze there are three of us. we crouch down in the cool, uncut grass, all of us looking for something different. he frowns. he can't see what's right in front of him. she smiles. she sees everything. they're both young enough to be my children. i find what i'm after: a single sunflower standing in the dark, towering over everything else. i feel the smooth cylinder of its neck between my fingers. i move to pull it from the earth. i see two smaller flowers wrapped around it, fighting to keep it locked in place. their faces are wilted, collapsing in on themselves in a world without light. their thin stems are wires — one black, the other red. it doesn't matter which wire i choose. something will explode if i try to pull this braid apart. she tells me the sunflower won't survive being uprooted. it'll be dead before i can carry it inside the house. there isn't another like it anywhere. i straighten my body and tell her i understand. i wouldn't wrestle something so precious from its home before it's finished growing. 211110 what's it to you? who go blather from