Blanket Praise
Eileen G'Sell

I will shut my eyes like a sad man.

I will sign my name in Cyrillic.


They were giving out roses

at the store today. I picked my flower

and went. And all

the children wanted


to know me, and every

Amanda thought me insane,

and sure as the sun

shot out from the East,


the sycophants got with it.

Invisible they were and reluctant

to swallow. Snow at the hemline

soft and bright, another spindled season.


In the time I took with him

in the greenhouse, three or four languages

left us for good.


You do not have to talk about it.

Okay. I mean, thank you.