- John Wellers
Subulbia
Subulbia
He bought some tulips for his front porch.
First they’re for his wife but
he knows she’ll put them there.
Everyone will see the tulips and most of them will notice.
He lives his whole life for them, of course
he does that for her.
He works for a living
He won’t be rooted up
Dug in, indignant
He earned his spot in the cul-de-sac
His wife and him brainstormed
a passive-aggressive e-mail to his boss,
reply-all.
But they spent
a lot of brainpower together
ensuring plausible deniability
should anyone call them out.
He’s never been fond of tulips
more of a succulent man
his wife loves them
thinks they’re
“Bright bulbs like ideas
I might have one day.”
She likes to share that one with her book club.
Neighborhoods like his get buried in a row,
watered, fostered, perpetuated like petty lumps.
breeding the perennial paternal figure.
Grown from the ground
he’s a go-getter
he’ll go get her more tulips
lest the neighbors think he doesn’t
take care of his family.
—John Wellers