I Get It

I Get It

Don’t worry, the cliche is not lost
on me. It’s a flower post

on Facebook. A daylily nonetheless—
its little anthers

erect as men around the seemingly
decimated stigma. But

they had their day in the sun,
and that seems

worth noting, some record
to say We are here, or more rightly,

We were here. And furthermore (used
to introduce a fresh

consideration in an argument), the plant
is my mother’s—was, maybe?—

formerly at home in her yard, years
and states away,

a clump I dug with diligence
to preserve

the roots and drove across country
to stick in the ground,

my own tilled plot. My brothers, each,
have done the same—

phlox, heather, tulips, pentas, heliotropes.
Of course I used filters

and pulled sliders in iPhoto to make
the perennial more alive,

definite, and mysterious—because
the thing itself

is just a flower and already gone,
and I am left

with this wordy reaching after something
and the sun.

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