VALENTINE

by Joanna Gilman Hyde

The West Desk Window 11:26pm

I have been arranging My Daughter’s Roses

for years it seems

at least since We moved to The Hawk

when bouquets started coming through the front door

from boyfriends and mothers

— some ended up dried

to be arranged again in fake crystal

or an old pewter pitcher —

tonight the heftiest bunch of all

came in with fluid-providing tubes

& baby’s breath to be thrown away

as I clipped twelve stems

stood Them in My heaviest vase

& carried The Arrangement

upstairs to Her Dresser