One Week After

The flowers have wilted now. 
Burnt orange half moon pistils 
burst forth from a sea of darkening,
lily white. 

Amid the detritus living
on the kitchen counter: discarded
dirty socks, molding dish sponge, 
half-empty casserole pan, unsigned 
school assignments, sits a yellow vase. 
I find myself furious at the browning, 
crinkled remnants of life 
so recently vibrant. 

We’ll take the dried, disintegrating petals 
to the compost bin where the worms 
will grow drunk on death. 
We’ll feed your memory 
to next year’s roses. 


Back to the Review >