Stickler

I bring her red and white carnations "Roses," she says, "only roses. Valentine's tradition." Breezy pressure of non-acceptance Words that flatten me like a dull sermon Squirm inducing to understand what I'm up against Commands that taste like salt Re-booting the rhythm of ritual Re-framing an approach to love For however long the florist remains open Poem composed: February 16, 2021 Revised: April 18, 2021