Oleander is neither
rhythmic nor kind – with
strangely stressed syllables in a
four-count array that don’t play
well in a couplet or haiku – oleander
killed a giraffe once at the
tucson zoo when a worker
thought it fit to
feed it some
of the crisp green leaves that I
used to admire or even
poke at until
I knew the truth – oleander
falls into one of those
arizona fallacies that
newbies wrongly believe like it
never gets cold in winter or
your dog will know not
to chew on cactus or
oleander is too handsome
to kill you – the two
oleander in my yard have long been
strangled or marred one
chopped to the quip to make
room for a table and the
other blighted with a fungus that
makes polypy chunks stunts its
growth and otherwise
mangles its appearance the
oldeander of my
neighbor blooms and
bends above and beyond the
fence looking luscious for
an instant and then
plopping its poisonous
petals on the soil
beneath where nothing
now grows without
turning haggard, then
drying up and
dying oleander
should be
outlawed a
friend once said told me
all the oleander in the
state was falling prey
to a plague swiping down
to annihilate and
maim them but they are
still alive well and thriving
in pots for sale
at home depot where
a sales guy warned me
anew about the oleander
woes how his dad’s friend
chopped and burned a
big pile of the branches – then went
blind
from the smoke for a year.
Ryn Gargulinski, 06.08.13
