I Want a Hydroponic Bouquet

  

I Want a Hydroponic Bouquet 

 

There’s something sad about a cut flower, 

watching its vibrant red or yellow wilt to stink  

and crisp decay, life seeping from their stems,  

rising from tulip tops and rose heads.  

 

A dozen gasps of air to please for days,  

bearing burdens as remitted sin,  

each baby’s-breath a weak apology,  

petals weighing lighter on the double-pan,  

contrasted with the worth of every woman, man. 

 

Agro-harvest grown en masse, picked  

and vased in sheaths to feign kept strength, 

blossoms bloomed intent for light  

the searching roots removed still  

casting, abstract limbs still felt. 

 

Gifts for the ill, perennials cut short, 

feeding smiles for another’s extra day.  

The sacrifice of plants,  

grown and plucked in admiration, 

mass production guaranteeing  

always newly replenished numbers. 

 

  

Christine Webster-Hansen

 

 

Christine Webster-Hansen is an assistant dean of e-Learning and an English instructor at a community college in NJ. Living with her husband and two cats, she is new to publishing. So far, her creative nonfiction is scheduled to appear in the Summer Solstice 2021 issue of Canary.