Glass: A Journal of Poetry Volume One Issue Three       


Phoebe Reeves

Absences

The peonies bend, heavy
clustered fists.

They bloom early on the south wall,
white-gloved hands relaxing into globes

of musk.  My neighbor brought them
over in a bucket to pile

on the piano and admire.  
                                    Did you know,
they can't open without the ants?

Ants  loosen the peonies' tight buds
with their tiny bodies.
 
                                    I had been
thinking how lovely they were.