Chrysanthemums in Bloom

A Poem About the Death of Love.

Photo by Arina Krasnikova

Chrysanthemums in Bloom 
2005
David C. Roberson

The nighttime's gone,
and you've moved on
while I'm stuck here alone.
And you didn't care to tell me what went wrong.

My questions never answered,
my heart, a bleeding dancer,
en manège 'round mysteries you hold.

The lights went down,
and now you've found
a brand new lease on life.
I'm so happy that you bounced back.
Our love was just a gimcrack,
a glob of glitter glossing o'er the fight.

And the world still spins
as we face tired, old regressions,
we return to our aggressions,
shouting, shaking, shivering
in this cold snow globe alone.

The sun comes up
to burn my skin.
The sky is blue again.
Wind burned my lips, but
the flowers are in bloom.

Every flower has a meaning,
and the ground outside is teeming
with chrysanthemums now signaling
this love of ours so dead.