Despite the World, I Buy Flowers

Another missile has struck someone’s holy ground, and the mums are nearly blooming. In my mailbox, a reminder to pray for victims’ families and, if the Spirit leads, pledge a monthly donation. Also in my mailbox, a letter from the botanical garden—Thank you for your membership. Did you know we offer free classes on growing through the seasons? They should thank my niece for the contribution, her passion for turtles and muddy footpaths. On my way to the grocery, I listen to political analysts parse protest signs and question their tone. Now for a word from our sponsor, the Southern Environmental Law Center. They are proud of me for walking, my small carbon footprint. They don’t see reams of crayon doodles lining my kitchen. Somewhere between my doorstep and the produce section, a thousand bullets showered a hospital while carnations spilled down the aisle. The economist I read in The Atlantic is right—these prices are out of control. I forgo fresh basil, avoid organic expense. Instead, I buy flowers, usually whatever looks wildest. But tonight my niece will paint my table with pasketti, so I choose red roses. Because Beauty and the Beast taught her that these are the petals of glass-housed love. Because the only rulers she knows are princesses who tend gardens and talk to birds and rescue the kingdom from men who claim they’re saving her. Because I want her to believe the world might end happily.

WHITNEY
RIO-ROSS

Whitney Rio-Ross is the author of thunder makes us (Belle Point Press) and poetry editor for Fare Forward. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Image, ONLY POEMS DAILY, Barely South Review, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee. Find her at whitneyrioross.com.