Ending with a Thundershower

The Nissan in front of me hydroplanes on
flash-floody pavement, flung to rest at a curb in

front of a Wendy’s where a teenager leans one
soaked arm out drive-thru window #2 with a

Frosty. June ends with thunderstorms on rose
blooms to remind us endings aren’t always

terrible. Just most times. My car air conditioning,
un-fogging my window glass, blows cold on my

wet body, wet groceries in the back. Once I
ended a 20-year friendship because she tried

to sell me pyramid-scheme weight-loss
drink. Does resilient describe me? The roses

are—losing some petals to pummeling rain,
but they were browned anyway, and they’ll

keep putting out new blooms until November.
Like, let’s say my husband died of a heart

attack tomorrow—a hailstorm to my soul,
my face puddled—I suppose I’d eventually

bounce back, right? Might not bloom again
though. Does that still count as resilient?

I wouldn’t dig out my rose bushes if they
stopped flowering, though I might resent them

a little, and resent rose blooms in other yards.
Wendy’s has red rose bush rows along the parking

lot. When the rain stops and I’m home, I’ll text
my husband, so he knows it’s not over yet.

Kerry Trautman is a lifelong Ohioan whose work has appeared in numerous journal and anthologies. She has served as a Northwest regional judge for Ohio’s “Poetry Out Loud” competition since 2016. Her books are “Things That Come in Boxes” (King Craft Press 2012,) “To Have Hoped” (Finishing Line Press 2015,) “Artifacts” (NightBallet Press 2017,) “To be Nonchalantly Alive” (Kelsay Books 2020,) “Marilyn: Self-Portrait, Oil on Canvas” (Gutter Snob Books 2022,) “Unknowable Things” (Roadside Press 2022,) and “Irregulars” (Stanchion Books 2023.)