5 | cromwell road, south kensington

2004

September 14th and 
I bought a blue hydrangea from the canary awning stand
erupting in buds on the corner of Old Brompton Road
and wore a too-large sweater to try and fit the grief, pouring
over wrist bones, out the sleeves
give it room to breathe 

when I came back in an early bird told me, pant legs
swollen with asphalt and rain
I was all bottle and spit and spatter
spaghetti sauce brewing, left
boiling on the stove
I tried all morning to turn off the heat
gave up and just simmered at noon

hydrangeas were your favorite flowers
I know because I looked them up, asked around
in my extended grasp after anything of you
and that solo stem that mocked for a bouquet
I planted in a wide-rimmed water bottle on the counter 
until one o’clock I stared
at its swoop always to one side, tried to correct the top heavy
inclination in the rotten-olive window glare

outside the flushing window panes
sirens beat a frantic cadence
inside
the light was changing, gaining momentum
          it had already been a year

do you know I’ve found 41 meanings for hydrangeas?
I looked them up, on quiet days.
of all of them,
it’s perseverance
that I prefer