Valentine for Certain Women

(an excerpt, originally for Susan)

The heart of friendship is a sturdy daisy and nub of grape

still clinging to fence. Driving coast to coast without

ever leaving our chairs. A collage of significant photos.

You first cut my daughter’s hair.

Our families are each tattooed with grief. A bouquet

of friends on the ever cluttered table. Passive aggressive.

Taken over. A visit when least expected. My nickname

spoken with your voice.

We move into new homes, counters stacked with mail.

Trees in need of water. Winter and spring. Our friendship,

a rolling cart on wheels. Recall of playing piano two by two

on a bench as a girl.

As if you were always there. Looking for knives and spoons

in my mother's drawers. Vinyl on the turn table. Sitting down to sigh.

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Vessel

Inside I imagine puckered cups of butter cookies nested in paper that releases a sigh But instead there may be fiction within wishes never reciprocated Playbill of redundant arguments One black glove found fraying This vessel on an emptied table solo temptation is labeled with another’s name Guarded initials as if carved in melting snow A tool unsuited to the task of prying open Not yet valentine

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