Eglantine

Sweetbrier they call it
flower of poetry
a wild Rose given hefty status
in Victorian floriography

What would it have meant
to make an arrangement with eglantine in it
then send it to a loved one?
Giving the flower that represents poetry
Instead of writing a poem itself

Maybe eglantine is for those
not so clever with words
or just too shy

But I know eglantine, with
its thorns and wild nature,
goes wherever it wants:
the meadow
W.B’s bee-loud glade
even creeping along the gray pavement
he abhorred so fervently
It goes every place a wild flower can go

But I can't write love poetry
So it won't come to me

I do seek it, mind you
Its delicate blossoms
barely recognizable today as a rose

As with kissable lips, we’ve come to cherish
only the reddest, most supple and dewy
petals for our bouquets

the eglantine grows as a wily shrub
planted by my mother and my aunt
at my childhood home
Does she know its history?
I don’t think so,
but now that I do,
sometimes I wonder if she sowed them
for me
Most days I think she hates my loneliness
more than I do

I don’t write love poetry
I don’t know love
but I do know flowers
and that will have to be
Good Enough