I drip paint on the neighbor’s lilies
from the balcony above,
pluck leaves from branches
parked next to my house.
I throw them off
as peace offerings. The flowers cry—
milky,
stained.
At night,
I push a glass of water
off the ledge. It shatters
over daisies. Their lights
flicker. The dog
barks. They say, “It must’ve been
a chipmunk.”

– Rebecca Ferlotti

Note: This piece was originally published in Wingless Dreamer (2021)