I knew the two pots of perriwinkle—
narrow suspicious leaves, shy purple blossoms—
but the rest of the greenhouse specimens
were really strangers to me; I didn’t know a mauve
one from a red
one, nor a geranium from a mum one
I just carry the ones
she indicates from the table to the cart
to the quick count at the cash register
to our trunk to the back porch
to await interment
much as the winter dead await
their day, a shipping label distinguishing
the distinguished dead
the label fluttering in the sunny May breeze
as the relatives gather
relatively close to the memory
of that hard day last winter so far
so long been good to know you
Don’t know these flowers
by name just by potential
to real gardeners they are old friends
but to me they are anonymous
