He brings me roses

Cut & plucked from the dirt

Thrust into water-filled vessels

Displayed for all to see

To remark upon their beauty

As they slowly wilt & die

An absurd mating ritual

To bring something beautiful

Removed from its lifesource

I react as if handed a fish

Gulls flapping, lurching for water.

I imagine a dying woman

Lying supine in her bed

As family & friends parade by

Remarking on her beauty & smell

As she slowly, quietly dies.

But we weep at the death bed,

And we comfort eachother at their wake

"Doesn't she look just like herself?'

No, she looks dead.

And then we put her into the dirt.

Flowers belong in the dirt

Where they can grow and live.

It's there that we should parade by

To appreciate their beauty.

Don't bring me flowers.

I don't want to watch them die.