what you are thinking
did you grow in a giant glass house
or some anonymous field
without admonition
maybe someone drove all night
or an unceremonious horn
announced the appearance
of a ship from the fog
full of you and others
packed in boxes
what are you thinking
still holding your pink
blossom tightly
in the protective green
leaves I’m sure have
a name but I don’t
want to look at a screen
I just want to look
at you here
in this silent kitchen
implacably waiting
there is no detectable
death along your petals
yet that lighter shade
soon will come
all morning I have been restless
I know there is something
I have not yet done
I did not sew
the deep blue future
with silver thread
pink flower you are
the only one I can tell
today is her birthday
I don’t even know
what to thank
so I will very gently
reach out my hand
and touch those green
fingers that finally
opened to hold
up your giant pink head
in futile gratitude
if it is all the same to you