Two Flowers

Two flowers grace my garden by the door:
The cabbage rose, the lovely rose de mai,
And dreamy daffodils. Once there were more,
But we have cleared the ground of stones and clay,
So that the roses can survive harsh nights
And dry days, heralding their showy pinks.
The stem bends, then the shadowy thorn bites,
In spite of beauty. Everybody thinks,
“Those daffodils, in crowds that glow and bloom,
Will soothe and succour us as we inhale,”
But they invade our kitchen, our bedroom,
And everywhere we try to hide, we fail.
The daffodil is only a narcissus,
Leaving us bleeding as it tries to kiss us.