You must be a Very Good Child
the florist at the grocery store pronounces
to the man standing before her
buying flowers for his mother
On Valentine’s Day all the customers clutch roses
as they shop It is as if there is a wedding
somewhere in here and we are all in it but
skipped rehearsal so we don’t know where
to stand Red and pink foil balloons sway and spin
under the AC’s breeze Is this enough baby’s breath
the florist asks That’s perfect the customer says
but I think she could go on adding more
fleshing out this armful of blooms with soapsud
with froth with gathered frost
In fact I want a dozen bouquets composed
solely of baby’s breath Tiny bits of snow at the tips
of the skinny green strands A constellation
of condensation collected from the exhalations
of infants and toddlers and children and tweens
and all their future progeny Generations of babies
and growing humans safely securely breathing in and out
Sighing Yawning Propelling responses across the yard
to the listener at the back door announcing
Time to come back inside If we saw flowers in the currency
of time these blooms would be seconds and carnations minutes
and tulips half hours and roses hours
I have rediscovered a love for filler flowers
fresh or flattened Please fill an entire cart with them
and sail it back toward me The wheels whirring
an ode to the exalted ordinary
I am trying so hard not to let this poem end
in death for once So here goes nothing
Today may you show a picture of a heart
to those you adore as paltry proof
May you adorn your hair with pink
and ribbons May your flowers taste rain
as you rush to the car and as they dream
their way into the big dark they were born
to become may they not be alone May they
carry with them the memory of light
