Thursday, August 22, 2019


Try this—
place a smart little
gift shop bouquet

of red local flowers 
on the table
near the window

in their
hospital room 
at the right time of day—

then watch
for a minute (though they
aren't yet awake)

the auroras cascade:
the amaranthine import
of Loveliness itself

as it floods in
to drench the tedious
and inconsequential—

the antiseptic gray
space in which 
Commonplace must exist;

and then 
come home and tell me
you still don't know

what forever 
is, or today
was for.