I chased a flower through the cemetery today.
At first, I thought it was just a tissue.
But when the wind carried it away,
I saw the glittery glaze and the unfolding petals.
I saw a Prius in the church parking lot
with a CORNDOGS bumper sticker —
I realized they were probably too busy
talking to the preacher,
or praying,
or making confessions,
or cleaning the chapel.
They were too busy to look out the window and
see me running between headstones,
tripping on the wet grass,
running after a white rose
that didn't even belong to me.
But I'd seen the arrangement —
a spray of flowers,
redpinkwhite,
and I went back and popped the white rose
into the in-ground vase,
where it could bring comfort
to the family,
where the flowers would be
just as they'd left them —
giving some semblance of order,
some respite from sorrow,
some common courtesy.
