A Mother Writes A List
by Gillian Osborne
Rosemary is writing a list
She writes the names of little things she knows
Hawkweed, For-get-me-not
Later, I realize it is she that moves me and not the list
people who love to look at the world
In the antiquated Language of the Flowers
Rosemary stands for remembrance
Do you know what you want from this, she asked,
central upstate winter even when everything was green
smell of snow traveling over lakes
Dianthus
Thistle
I don’t know the names of these or what they look like
how we’d walked though pastures pulling Queen Anne’s Lace
delicate bit of handiwork someone pricked their finger on a needle
spilled a drop of blood into the center of
easy to identify
Don’t you know what this feeling resembles
she said
This purple has a name
Purple Vetch
Published on June 4, 2019