St. Therese sent me flowers.
An altar of red roses – I pleaded for white
the first Novena. The second, I begged for red
or white or pink or yellow or black but not
a wedding cake adorned with orange roses.
It was too cruel an action, a brutal honesty.
Why rend my dreams for all to watch?
I picked each petal to a child’s rhyme
Like Tarot cards, the fortune unchanging
with my rising anguish.

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