Golden Afternoon

I hope one day my loves talks to me in the language of flowers—i’ll find aster flowers in my shoes before I run out the door and gardenias by my bedside and when I roll over they’ll smile their crooked smile—on nights we hunger for each others company they’ll hand me bouquets upon bouquets of red roses and sunflowers—I want bellflowers on the days I can’t get out of bed and jasmine and honeysuckle beside my plate when I feel shameful about my waist size—when it becomes too bad I want them to stop me from eating amaryllis—I want all forms of hydrangeas, hyacinths, moss, and azalea to form my iris—I want all flowers and their stems for no matter how sharp the thorns the flower will always be beautiful—I want primroses and cloves—promises and truths that I can’t ignore