Rose Out......................................6

Hurrying to fill up the black holes in the floral stand
before the store opens, like a conjurer
from drab cardboard boxes I release
scented stocks, chrysanths,
carnations, gyp, irises
and variously priced concoctions
of divers floral plumage,
all of which come, stalk bases safely pampered
in black buckets of water
mixed with their specified chemical fix.

I weed out the ones with today's sell by date:
put back once too often, their prime never quite
tempting enough. Often it is roses:
their petals, too sensitive, bruise,
heads drop without deep water,
needing more than any other flower.

Finding one, the bud a crumpled old maid's heart
dying closed,
I fill its bucket
deep.

The flowers'colours dim to echoes
as what you said last night
seeps into now
and I feel my tight heart
burst open.