Love, The Name
We cast aside
Ivy, the violets and daisies, ferns, the laurels, lillies and roses
the heathers, hazels and hollies, the poppies petals and posies
of names, cast them all away, settled for love, yes we picked love
Love, translated Amy.
And when she was late we plucked daffodils to welcome her, scattered
rose buds astrew the nursery, you even tucked one under her mantle –
for the scent, you said, and laughed aloud.
It’ll wither. Die, I said, but I left it just the same.
We ran hot baths awash with hyacinth petals –
they said she’d like that. We visited Kew Gardens, ate cherries,
watched new heads appear above the loam, and in the end,
Yes, in the end
When we kissed the rosebud lips that never uttered a single sound.
When her perfectly formed half moon nails shone like white lilies.
We showered her with teardrop sprays.
Love, The Name by Tess Adams won second prize in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (May 2018) judged by Derek Adams