"Samantha's Purple Flowers" 


It must be Randy. 

Tailored black and milk-white cane 
Carnation beaten 
battered up 
and set inside the vase. 

It must be blooming. 

by now 
Some other place with sprinkled grass 
wild seed in calloused hand 
planted, trampled 
and caged inside a vase. 

It must be Randy-- 
coming up the path. 
thump, creak, thump 
The steady gate of one who's not afraid. 
Tailored black and milk-white cane 
carnation drooping in his hands 
A pause, a stare. 
Purples grew 
inside his mother's window. 

"I always liked lilies," she says: 
it must be Randy. 

"You'd better go," a soft reply 
as thump, creak and thump come up the path 
a lovely cane, a lovely suit 
pristine but never clean. 
"You really must--" "--this has to stop!" 
crashes through his ears 
as he crashes through the door. 

It bounces. 
A petal on the table shudders to the floor 
but the flower there is gone 
thrown away. 

It must be Randy. 

His eyes set on the empty vase 
but all he sees 
are two blouses, one long-sleeved and one that's not 
--and a skirt that brushes floor. 
Near him. he pushes her away 
"I told you not to speak to her!" 
(I told you not to fade) 
but it's too late. 

A chair creaks back on its half-circle legs 
because of Randy. 

She stumbles back and knocks over the phone 
which is just as well 
because it knocked over the vase 
that landed next to Randy. 
(I know who you are, you vile beast!) 
she helps the fallen woman up 
"It's time you left 
"along with me. It's time you left for good." 

(This is what I come home to?) the beast rages 
inside his head, inside his hand 
the flower's crushed so hard it's dripping 
the cane-- his knuckles match. 

It must be stopped. 

Somewhere it's blooming fiercely 
and the window shows it clear 
Swing 
and miss 
an urgent weight cracks the window sill 
and pots go flying, tracking dirt 
pressed undearneath his shoe. 
Swing and hit-- 
those knuckles matched 
a skull that busted through 

and it was Randy. 
Miranda had a fire in her bones 
but Sammy couldn't hurt a fly. 

Johnny 
died 
in Sammy's arms. 
Beloved wife 
beloved fate, he always liked the purple 
flowers blooming 
on her cheek. 


~Mika, Sept 12, 2003