In the month of April, The Standing Desk will showcase four pieces under the “April Flowers” series from Liz James. This is the second installment of the four works.



I waited all winter for the yellow to return
for the sun and forsythia and dandelion.
The daffodils look nicer against the snow,
though I know they’re dying.
Seasons are not to be trusted despite grade school promise
of easy quarted timespans.
The yellow arrives to contend with grey,
but clouds will always obscure the sun first.
The daffodils bow to the ground like emus with their heads in the sand. Their heads curled inward and stamens embedded in snow rather than reaching toward the warmth.
My brother drives me around again
because I can’t get behind a wheel anymore.
I try to play upbeat music so he won’t know I’m so sad,
but the lyrics give me away,
and the air turns thick
like the wrinkled leather water of contaminated river under the bridge.
Suddenly I understand that nothing truly ends or disappears
Zero is an imaginary number and forgetting is a parlor trick where the memory steps out from the trap door after the audience has clapped and left their seats.


liz_james_poetry_kansasLiz James is a 23-year-old poet from Kansas. Their poetry revolves mostly around themes of self-discovery and plant life. They self-published a zine, ‘Rehab for Caffeine Addicts’ in 2015, and have been a featured reader for the Taproom Poetry Series and KU’s Undergraduate Reading Series, which they directed from 2015 until 2017. Liz’s favorite flowers are cornflowers and anemones.

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