the mock orange refuses to sign papers,
says they are in the mail
again has made herself
again has been a big deal since
before merriweather lewis ripped her up by her roots
it stays, it stays
in cahoots flowers bloom snow next to the flagrantly
deceptive red haiku quince who will not call the court
no matter how easy it would be
divorced flowers-tulip tulipa
in bunches that turn
water into mushy
toadstools
the lipstick red tulips decide not to bloom
but the once on the
inside
the maple decayed
she keeps planting
anyway, darling
divorced flowers have changed their names
sunburnt smooth
apples & cherries
are now gingham
dresses
they show off
every day
the hyacinths,
crocuses say they
are better
the same
hyacinths claim
they are mother’s
day blossoms say
they are apples &
cherries are lilacs
& rhodies the
rhodies are
despicably lurking
amongst
shiny leaves camellias
the judge, old fashioned,
wants to give the primrose a chance
her faded soft yellows are
not deadheaded yet
it can happen without me, she says, it was my own idea
I am already divorced in my head
it was a long winter but she is first up after the violets, snowdrops, bluebells
she knows she was in front of the 3 wild roses, the mosses
it rains
she looks ragged, torn
leaves
Like the talking flowers of Wonderland, the garden Bacchus has planted in this book speaks for itself. Each poem, each flower is carefully shaped and nurtured by the poet’s hand and, just like in nature, no two are identical. From shallots to primrose to briars, each piece has its own distinct fauna and tone, they’ve each got their reasons for thriving, for wilting. The minds of these flowers and poems are as unique and intricate as the one that willed them from the soil, or from the page. Forget a bouquet of posies for your mantelpiece, buy Divorcing Flowers for your coffee table.
– -Jay Rafferty, Sage Cigarettes Magazine
