carnations

when he own a coffee shop

i’ll play the jazz album

we listened to

on the drive back home

and above the mugs

will be the picture frame

i had to piece back together

after our very first fight

he’ll serve black coffee in those ceramic mugs

that you get red lipstick on

and i’ll forget that you’re sitting where you always sit

with a book and the window’s company

until i have to scrub down the rings of stained coffee

on the wood of the leaning table

and throw away little notes you left for me

or him

or the red bird and the tree branches outside

but when we plant the flowers in the sill next spring

i’ll save room for your carnations