Forgive me, for I have been nurturing my well-worngrudges against beauty. I am hoping my neighborswill show some mercy on me for backing my car intothe garden & crushing what I will say were the peonies.a flower with a short season. born dying. some might sayit’s a blessing to know your entrances & exits. forgive me, forI have once again been recklessly made responsiblefor the curation of softness & have instead returned with anothertorrent of viciousness. in the brief moment of their flourish,at the opening of spring, I drove across state lines to gather peonies for a womanwho loved me once. as a way of surrender, I pull the alreadydying thing from the earth in a mess of tangled knots & I insistthat you must keep it alive for a year, even after it so desperatelywants to be done with the foolishness of its living. The last thingI ask of this relationship is to burden you with another relationship.it is so delicious to define the misery you are putting a body out of.& just like that, we are talking about power. how awful this must be for youI whispered as I closed my eyes & put the car into reverse.