We wander
the roof of hell,
choosing blossoms
—Kobayashi Issa (translated by Jane Hirshfield)
I’m sick of bickering about hope.
Sick of poems about flowers
that die while I’m dicking around
with “good” description: baptisia stalks
blue as forearm veins. Truth is everyone is sick
of dying in the little cubicles
where I arrive each Monday and depart
leaving a bouquet of my hair. I won’t give up
this bitching about gratitude, thankful
there’s no truer sign of life
than to complain. In the garden today,
no lily-of-the-valley, symbol for renewal
of happiness. Positive attitude matters
intones my sweet, apple-cheeked phlebotomist.
She’s right, of course. And I am optimistic,
believe weeds I dug last week
return three times as bright.
Life’s work. Endless
good work under the uproarious sky.
And then you die. If you’re lucky. Fuck
bright-side-half-full-silver-lining.
I’m here to serve
the first hyacinth, kneeling
beside its cudgel of hot pink stars—
until I’m not.
—Kirun Kapur
Kirun Kapur (Website) is the author of three books of poetry, Visiting Indira Gandhi’s Palmist (Elixir Press, 2015) which won the Arts & Letters Rumi Prize and the Antivenom Poetry Award; Women in the Waiting Room (Black Lawrence Press, 2020), a finalist for the National Poetry Series; and the chapbook All the Rivers in Paradise (UChicago Arts, 2022). Her work has appeared in Ploughshares, AGNI, Poetry International, Prairie Schooner, and many other journals. She serves as editor at the Beloit Poetry Journal and teaches at Amherst College, where she is director of the Creative Writing Program.