Conversation with an orchid
I happened to be looking at you
when your last flower fell
like a severed wing
it landed on the floor
where it looked pinker than ever
and I read that you will bloom again
which is not a metaphor
but only if I cut your stems
though I rather like you this way
bald and jagged
like a sculpture
like a coat hanger
no pressure anymore
when I pour my cereal
afraid to look
to see if that petal
was still insisting
on life.