Regular Lead-Free

I bought them at the pump, between the oil and the ice,

a bunch of pink carnations at a very modest price.

I felt a bit pathetic, a bit like a cliché,

bringing home a gift to brighten up the day.

But now the water’s cloudy, a thick and mustard hue,

the stems are getting slimy, like a bowl of rotten stew.

The edges of the petals are turning scorched and brown,

like a cheap and frilly dress that’s burning in a town.

They don’t look like a gesture. They look like a mistake,

a brittle, dying promise that I didn’t mean to break.