tending

i try to grow something every once in a while
my maternal line is cursed with black thumbs
the words you speak taste like a funeral
where i lay in repose and nobody comes

if I am the garden, you must be the gate
or the angry wasp building a hive
the roses you chose look nice in the kitchen
drop a penny in the vase, keep the blooms alive

the walls are thin and so is my patience
being quiet takes some firm resolve
i heard flowers like music, I have a playlist
but you prefer to watch the same record revolve

we frame things like pictures, these nonviolent crimes
the lie of concord doesn't fly anymore
the lilies you'll place? they'll just be a waste
you don't send flowers to a whore