memory & desire

thank you for your gift

Thanks for Remembering Us
- by Dana Gioia

The flowers sent here by mistake,
signed with a name that no one knew,
are turning bad. What shall we do?
Our neighbor says they're not for her,
and no one has a birthday near.
We should thank someone for the blunder.
Is one of us having an affair?
At first we laugh, and then we wonder.

The iris was the first to die,
enshrouded in its sickly-sweet
and lingering perfume. The roses
fell one petal at a time,
and now the ferns are turning dry.
The room smells like a funeral,
but there they sit, too much at home,
accusing us of some small crime,
like love forgotten, and we can't
throw out a gift we've never owned.

from Daily Horoscope, 1986
Graywolf Press, St. Paul, Minn.

the urn-shaped rosebud

My grandfather was a talented gardener and though I remember plenty of marigolds planted in his yard, I don't think he grew any roses. Still, he always had catalogs from nurseries and rose growers laying around. I have always been a bit of a reference material freak, and for me, these catalogs were portals of imagination.

All the varieties were organized by type and then by color and each offering was accompanied by a picture and a description. Sometimes, but not always, a picture of that variety's bud would be included. The description would usually go something like: "Queen Elizabeth -- Bud pointed; Flower MEDIUM PINK COLOR, double flower (38 petals), high-centered to cupped, large (4 inch) blooms borne singly and in clusters; Fragrant; Foliage dark, glossy, leathery; Growth very vigorous, upright and bushy. All American Rose Society Award, 1955." (This description is courtesy of Texas A&M.)

I read the descriptions as if they were secret incantations. I memorized the descriptions several varieties and checked up on them from year to year. I was intrigued by the scent descriptions (pungent, spicy and sweet - how could you get all that in a one rose?) But my favorite factoid was the shape of the rosebud (which, remember, was not always pictured). The regal Queen Elizabeth noted above sports a pointed bud, Golden Medal's is ovoid, and Pristine's bud is described as long. Just long. To me, these descriptors always seemed pretty vague. But there is the elusive, and to my imagination, the most perfect shape of all buds: the urn.