The Daisy Petals

THE DAISY PETALS
October 29, 2006


He loves me says the petal
as I pull it off the stem
and he smiles and draws nearer
and I know it’s true.

He loves me not the petal tells
me as I pull off another one
and he points and stabs and
attacks with temper, tooth,
and nail,

and I pull another petal
and this one says he loves
me and when I turn I see his
arms outstretched, his eyes
alight with love.

He loves me not. The light
goes out. The storm breaks
once again. Suddenly I’m
bitch and beast and told, emphatically,
to get out. I don’t want you
here. You are no wife of
mine, in no uncertain terms.

But he loves me says the
petal and the blizzard now
has passed, yet I no longer
pick the daisies. I know their
ambivalence. So I watch from
a distant field, and no
longer pull on petals. The
blizzards still come and go,
but I am wiser now and
I know he loves me not.