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Farmer's Market Sweet Plums: Apology to the Flower Lady

We have no issue with her, per se. Guilty,

we knew already what we wanted

long before we noticed the slow gesture

of her fingers: flower to scissors, to vase,

to flower again. Her painful carefulness—:

that anonymous labor for more

beauty qua beauty. She almost convinces us

to forget the fruit and choose the flower

in her hands:—to take from her

that burden of belief. Leaving the market,

with bags of plums bumping at our hips, we begin

to offer strangers that rounded sweetness,

one by one, desperate for her gentleness,

for her certainty in what the living need.

from Revising the StormFind it in the library

Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2014
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.

Published in Geffrey Davis Poems

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