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
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