to a boy who liked flowers

 

 

You used to blow your wages on cut flowers to fill your house

fresh cut flowers in cups and mugs and vases

in every room of the house

the yellow pollen

and the green

the sweet

the heady

the obscene

you liked their faces looking back at you

pretty faces in the kitchen pretty

coloured faces

to cover the gloom

of a dark and ever chilly end

of terrace where

nobody paid the rent

but the girls

who kept you warm at night

they loved

the flowers with their scent

 

 

 

 

dominoes

 

 

the kidder on kid

the maker up

of lies

used to love those

saturday morning

patterns of falling

blocks

spreading

clattering

petals

on a floor sized flower

 

and sending rockets off

in different directions

 

all that noise

and splendour

from

one

little

finger

 

 

 

 

the raven

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a poem for delmore schwartz

 

 

 

 

 

copyright © alison faulds

2008