dreams of the Gardener

Inspired by the word "blooms" from Sylvia Plath's "Ariel".

Fingers in ribbons
she shuffled to me
the patio chairs
and the cup of tea I'd poured.

I'd found her weeding without gloves

offered cream, bandages, a thick
white carnation dropped on my saucer.

Pert on the sage
cushion she lay flat snagged hands 
on the table's difficult surface

shot my eyes through the circle
of hers -

I will not love 
she said again.
Let me love angels for I will not love ordinary men.

The ring in my trousers
bloomed with the hard 
necessity of staying secret
for another day.