Blue Mistflower

1 Minute Read Time

Pretty in small patches, its clusters
not quite blue but a shade of purple sky, 
the plant can spread too quickly
if allowed, undemocratic in its impulse 
to possess the garden.
                                          Lately, I worry 
about anything inclined to power—
the wood violets like petechiae
in the blanched gaze of the lawn, 
the spurge that chokes by tangling,
the bitter cress like a gift from a lover 
who turns cruel six months from now.

I watch for signs of aggression.

Each inflorescence means another 
butterfly, monarchs and painted ladies, 
pearly crescents resting on the stems. 
From far away, the blue mistflower 
does resemble mist.
                                      This is its seduction: 
vaporous, everything smothered beneath 
its touch, how it subdues the light.

Jehanne Dubrow

is the author of three books of nonfiction, ten poetry collections, and a craft book, The Wounded Line: A Guide to Writing Poems of Trauma (University of New Mexico Press, 2025). She is a Distinguished Research Professor and a Professor of Creative Writing at the University of North Texas.

Return to top of page

Search