The long hiatus is over

[This is my first poem in probably five years. Thank you Matt Cooper, for marrying me. Also, the vibrant summer flowers in Phoenix helped.]

A rose by any other name

is a sunflower,

a sleepy tilt toward morning.

I stretch my petals,

trying on different labels—

carefully soaking each one off,

the words in my mouth,

lips pursed around letters.

Until, one day,

the paper feels snug on my jar.

The name is new, but familiar—

so many perfect rows of provisions.

I greet the day

with my own definition.

Now, there are two sunflowers—

an expression of this secret garden.

We grow like the rise/set

of a confident horizon.

It’s been years since I

organized the harvest,

left a log

of facts.

1.       Courage grows strong at a wound.

2.       Glory is the reward of valor.

I am a sunflower, a river.

I am a daughter, a woman.

I am a Cooper.