I am not a flower

about to bloom, nor

one whose petals have fallen.

I am not a flower,

nor is this poem

my prurient confession:

I am not a flower

worn like a corsage,

or draped on coffin tops.

I am not defined

like a bridal bouquet

for I am not a flower.

Flowers are more

than what they are;

I am only what I am.

(July 31, 2018)