When I arose the petals of the pink
tulips were strewn on the table,
debris of glossy tongues.

Stalks in stale water leaned against
the glass vase, weathered
trees after a storm.

How I withered into bed
when they were still in bloom.
A Sabbath morning, the forecast

is frigid this Valentine’s Day.
Arctic emissary I refuse
to read as any sign.

But the atmosphere
imparts what is germane,
written in wreckage of flowers.


Joseph O. Legaspi

JOSEPH O. LEGASPI is the author of Threshold and Imago, both from CavanKerry Press; and two chapbooks, Aviary, Bestiary (Organic Weapon Arts) and Subways (Thrush Press). He co-founded Kundiman (www.kundiman.org), and lives in Queens, NY.

Latest posts by Joseph O. Legaspi (see all)