To be better feels like being a rose, opening
under the moon, a cut rose in a vase.
I want to feel like that rose, in our house –
It is an issue for me, it is unclear why –
this flower. I am involved, we are involved,
in each day, plumping ourselves like a bouquet.
The key feature is this – the satin petal,
curving, and of course the thorns.
I assume so much each hour, I cannot move
but for assuming – If anything, I have sat
in quiet rooms, making plans for transformations
that would impact me later, my feet in the water,
my head opening, giving me more options
for living – like absorbing the air through my skin,
and making a painting.
I might just sit here for an eternity,
playing videogames with my friends –
or I might eat a peach ice cream.
I would build a world more just, and expand
into intergalactic space, a rose, orbiting these suns.
My friend would do this better – don’t I know it.
On a scale, these options are as practical,
as ever anything was practical – a bee
climbs into a flower, brushing pollen on its legs –
that is practical. No, I will sit in my vase,
dropping petals. Specifically, I will wilt.
Support me in this, support me
by allowing me to be away from you. Know
that I love you even as I go into the other room.
There is no deadline for this – there is only
the living root line which knots around us, finally.
I will take a step out of the door, know I will return,
later, with flowers which you may cut and vase,
before we arrange and eat our lunch.