A Persons

Too bad we found no evidence
Of a clear causal precedence.

Growing plants on her balcony,
She shuts out the cacophony

Of the streets of Cairo, below.
They hang a green curtain, her row

Of various species potted
In cut-in-half plastic bottles.

We understand that she’s many
Persons in one, as is any

Person—not just this gardener
Of swaying calm. She has harder

Selves, sure, then whatever sweetness
Tends her fragile, green forgiveness

For her dusty city, these leaves.
Any evening blooms many Eves.