Blue Morning Dawn

By Joanne Milavec

Give me time
to arrange
my words of grief
to stand
Siberian iris tall
Beside the box
in which they
placed you.

Give me time
to weight the stems
between crystal pebbles
in their house of glass:
To fill the vase lip-high
with icy water.
To keep the stems moist,
the flowers tough and hardy,
Their need only small amounts
of care, as they seek coolness:
Earth’s shade.

I am left
Clinging to them now
as you never did
to anything,
to anyone.

Categories: Issue 6, Poetry | Leave a comment

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