A Dozen Long-Stemmed Red Roses

A Dozen Long-Stemmed Red Roses

A Poem by JR

When I buy a new bundle of paper towels

I wonder where I feel the loss, in the next gas tank?

in the next meal I make for my son?

I hesitate to turn on the heater, I huddle in the dark

typing poems in the morning cold

I worry when I leave the lights on, 

about that hefty accusing finger of a bill;

but when Marilyn died, 

all the mourners showed up in stretch limos

they wore designer funerary gowns and tuxes

cried their grief into monogrammed handkerchiefs

when somber, silent men slid her meat into the marble

Joe paid for the whole deal, of course he did

he was still a man in love

for twenty years after, he had delivered to her grave

a dozen long-stemmed red roses

three times a week

Jesus, Joe, how much did that set you back?

who was buying your paper towels?

I guess that’s love

they say indole lends smell to

roses and s**t both,

but in different concentrations…

they don’t smell the same to me

© 2020 JR

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Added on January 16, 2020
Last Updated on January 16, 2020



Placerville, CA

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