Ed McManis
The Editor
The San Francisco editor, now three
years fired, stares at his shrinking
library, the dying bonsai on the third
shelf, writes in his journal:
Nature poems need a beginning, an ending,
a little cream filling in the middle.
That chicken shit didn’t help the iris;
pruning doesn’t regenerate anything.
Genius is collective, he reasons, crucifixions
come in threes. Resurrection is a solitary event.
No trees on Gethsemane, living ones anyway.
The first line of his villanelle:
The lone orchid will never bloom.
On the blank page nothing is less
than nothing, zeros cancel out.
Tulips in the Sunday flyer are BOGO.
In tomorrow’s journal entry Jesus
doesn’t return, disbelievers sing
harmonies in thirds, gardeners dance,
tears fall like lily petals, palm leaves brush
the air like... palm leaves. There’s
only one donkey, one rider.
I could have helped Judas, he writes.
Even the most forlorn traitor
feels the buds of a rose bush
blossoming in his chest.
He rises to warm his coffee, water the ficus,
stares out the window at the poppies
deheaded, groans, realizes he’s missed
the Neighborhood Gardener’s deadline
for planting crocus bulbs, feels winter creeping
over the fence, yellowing the grass..
Ed McManis’ work has appeared in more than 70 publications, including Coolest American Stories 2025. His most recent chapbook is “Trash Truck 7:38 A.M. (And Other Love Poems)." He, along with his wife, Linda, have published esteemed author Joanne Greenberg’s (I Never Promised You a Rose Garden) latest novel, "On The Run". Little known trivia fact: he holds the outdoor free-throw record at Camp Santa Maria: 67 in a row.