by Gail Goepfert

Noon. The café line snakes by the handbags, 
fine leather goods meant to entice—a Givenchy GV3 
Diamond Quilted Crossbody Bag, a Nancy Gonzalez 

Cristie Linen & Genuine Crocodile Tote, a Devotion 
Leather Shoulder Bag, adorned with an oversized heart, 
lustrous imitation pearls detailing the envelope flap—

all secured to metal cables and the airy sparkling display 
of glass and gold. We giggle, almost, as we try to resurrect 
the price tags, buried in a zippered compartment,

giddy school girls, under the scrutiny of the salesperson
who materializes from nowhere. Just looking. Seating 
saves us. We order our usual—Cranberry Turkey 

and Tuscan Roasted Salmon. Lunch talk stretches 
for hours, chemo and chaos, Poetry and CBD. 
Things the heart must hold.

How it’s time to say yes to what matters. 
To stop saying sorry when we need to say no.
No need to check words for genuine or imitation.

*This poem won second Honorable Mention in the “Poetry for Purses” Competition in honor of Kate Spade and suicide prevention.

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Gail Goepfert, an associate editor at RHINO Poetry, is a Midwest poet, photographer, and teacher. She has two published books: A Mind on Pain (2015) and Tapping Roots (2018). Get Up Said the World will appear in 2019 from Červená Barva. She’s received four Pushcart Prize Nominations. Recent or forthcoming publications include Kudzu House, Stone Boat, Postcard, Poems and Prose Magazine, Open: Journal of Arts and Letters, Bluestem, and Beloit Poetry Journal. Please see more at gailgoepfert.com.

by Gail Goepfert

—I paint flowers so they will not die. 

Frida Kahlo

We are watchers, Frida—

aching but obedient to light,

resurrected by shocks of color.

Mornings you pluck

bougainvillea or pearly

gardenias, plait them in your hair

above your brow. I shadow

the fire of spring poppies

and the profusion of lilacs

and pink hydrangea.

With the organ pipe cactus,

you spike a sage-green fence

on the borders of La Casa Azul

tuned to the rhythms of sun

and rain—its lavender-white

flowers tint while you sleep.

Our love-eyes like greedy

tongues lick the rare-red

of wild angel trumpets.

We are aficionados. Pregnant

with joy in the garden’s cosmos.

We pursue hues like lovers’

lips, stalk columns of yellow

calla-lilies, praise the allure

of honey-petalled sunflowers

and the lobes of violet irises.

We thrive on iridescence—

our eyes attuned to its blessing.

Watchers. We bend near

in reverence to the bloom—

all pain humbled, stilled

for a time by beauty.

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Gail Goepfert, an associate editor at RHINO Poetry, is a Midwest poet, photographer, and teacher. She is the author of A Mind on Pain (2015), Tapping Roots (2018), and Get Up Said the World (Červená Barva, 2019). Recent or forthcoming publications include Kudzu House, Stone Boat, Postcard, Poems and Prose Magazine, Open: Journal of Arts and Letters, and Beloit Poetry Journal. See more at gailgoepfert.com.