Ode to Working in a Flower Shop

Poetry Winner

after Ross Gay

I have the privilege
of seeing roses
everyday
holding them
by the dozen
like babies
in my arms
delighting
as I snip
their thorns
remove bruised
guard petals
silken between
my fingers
as I make them
more beautiful
knowing they
will be given
to somebody
who is loved
glitter drips
off greeting cards
finding me
until I shine
like crystal
my ring clinks
softly against vases
when I carry them
to the counter
ring them up
box them up
and send
them home
and it is easy
to be happy
when you’re surrounded
by beautiful things
it’s autumn
now 
and shipments
of sunflowers
such bright
cheerful things
refuse to open
unwilling
to seek
what is not there
when my grandparents
still had a home
not an urn
or a locked room
my grandfather
grew sunflowers
in armies
they flourished
under his command
their heads
as big as dinner plates
a majestic
golden
cavalry quartering
in his garden
beaming at him
like he was their sun
at the end of the day
I’m sure to take home
sickly sweet lilies or
hydrangeas
finicky and beautiful
occasionally carnations
that last for weeks
so long
that I forget
flowers must die
and what
I’m saying here
is of course
of course
no sunflower
can ever
bloom again
now that
the sun is gone.