For Rose

Or, Only The Pineapple*

Image: Zarina Braybrooke

The eyes of a child,
wide open and wanting.

The name of a flower
from an old English garden;

but a woman of this land,
too long
exiled from home.

You stop me for a moment,
my face so familiar —
and pockets full of cash,
that’s what you remember.

Another story,
seen your daughter
in the country
been better, been worse,
(you know how it is)

and you say,

“Hey, won’t you spare me a dollar?
A little something to help me get through.”

So I offer up a crumpled blue tongue,
but you say,
“Why not make it two?

“’Cos some days are hot, and
some days are cold;
there’s freedom in the wandering,
but no place to grow old.

“You know how it is —
been better, been worse.