Christopher T. George

Hydrangeas

In the garden wall, I hide a brass threepenny bit
under the loose brick by Nanna’s pink hydrangeas.
The threepenny joeys she saved in a plastic purse
for that rainy day. Sprinkle hydrangea powder

around the scene of the crime and the thief
will be revealed to you. The nails and coins
she buried in the soil to make the blooms
turn from pink to blue. A thief sprinkles

hopeful powder on the Judge’s seat, in the jury
box, round a purple candle, to influence the court.
Luck can’t be bought or stolen, only wished for.