yesterday I wanted flowers



yesterday i wanted flowers

(such a small, insignificant thing)


weeks ago I’d have quickly ran the 

water at the kitchen sink 


forgotten to trim the stems 


crowded too many into the glass vase


poured in the drops of vodka that

promise to keep them fresh


placed them off center on the kitchen table

and went about my day.


but now 


now I’d document the hue of every petal.


I want tulips – 


sky-burnt orange 

(I’ve forgotten what it’s like to wake with the sun)


the hastiness of red

(we haven’t ran far enough for our cheeks to turn)


the authenticity of purples, blues, pinks – 


I’d lay their sweet heads 

on the countertop


carefully trim their green feet 


reach for the second vase 

(distance is key now)


carefully position each one

(watch their delicate necks)


and then I’d watch them bloom.


I’d catch each one as it

stretched out it’s bright arms

and dropped each precious petal


because time

is the smallest, 

insignificant of things.

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