Love Song in the Key of Little Edie

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The wisteria has a nervous breakdown,

hurricaning all over the trellis. Smells like

grape jelly. The world wants us all the same.

When you’re sick, I buy flowers. Hydrangeas.

White roses or peach ones, whatever they have

but not lilies. Please don’t go. I need you

to remind me about me, the way the sun

slashes my skirt as I wave my little freak flag,

belt the clamor of my name.

Ugly, the squeak of ointment I apply

to your diseased and once-beautiful legs.

You forget how sensitive a person can be.

I try to be sweet. To cover my death

with perfume. It’s best to wear the whole

shroud over my face. From the outside,

I’m a woman with no head. They do this

to every vine. They rush to pull me down.

I couldn’t get over it! I still can’t.

How much I loved my mother.