*
what was left:
hydrangea. orchid. camellia.
trumpet flower. hibiscus. ylang ylang.
i made a book of dried flowers that made me think of her each day i was in asia, wrote little notes, arranged each flower carefully on the page. we broke up before i could ever give it to them. i burned that book. this is the haphazard copy, the reject and the excess flowers, the second thoughts that were the only thing i left for myself.
what was left:
creosote. maple leaves. plumeria.
memories cradled in recycled pulp
pressed firm.
use the ephemeral
make something new.
what was left:
lilies. daisies. carnations.
moth orchids. roses.
alicia and kara and dure sent baskets and bouquets of white flowers in anticipation of the way your body slowly became more frail, more fragile. i never used to bring lilies home. it doesn't matter now.
i can't bear to throw them out, though their blooms are wizened and dry. i can only sweep the litter left over. the soughing of broom bristles over the floor sound like the wheezing of your last breaths, your little head flopping over to my hand and away, unable to find comfort.
this is all i have left of you.
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