Standing with the Narcissi/Beth Kephart Poem

I have denied the dahlias their second season,

leaving their fretwork earthed in for the winter,

their prospects overcome by white ice.

Beneath the lilacs, in the tulip bed,

the gnawing hunger of the mole,

and in the crush of azalea nearest the house,

proof of the deer that came in the season

of my insomnia and flared the window

With its stoked breath.  This leaves

the burden of forgiveness on the red ranunculus

and also the heather, dug in yesterday,

as also the yellow broom that sweeps the teeth

of the iris you sent to me in a box from California,

marked Yours. The burden of living forward

stands with the narcissi.  The burden of truth

with the bleeding heart beside

the shaft of wintered grasses.