VALENTINE’S DAY
She buys herself carnations in the market,
Pretending they were sent to her by someone
Whose fingers read her body in the dark.
For she who has no lover must invent one.
Flowers have a brief and poignant time
To lure the hummingbird or honeybee
Or luna moth before they wilt on the vine,
Sterile, unfulfilled and incomplete.
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