The First Bouquet frog then pocket it

then pocket it

snatched from a velvet-lined box in a house already crumbling into dust

The stones at her feet shimmer

beyond the reach of curious eyes

my drift is a prize

The First Bouquet frog then pocket itThe stems came home clenched in a small fist, held too tight to stay whole. Petals bent, some already falling, lengths uneven where theyd been pulled instead of cut. Elin kept talking as she held them out, words tripping over each other, pointing at the smallest blossoms as if they mattered most. Her mother took them carefully, not correcting anything. No sorting, no trimming back the damage. Just sitting together at the table, turning the little