The Green Tricycle: Issue #3: Home: Annette Marie Hyder

Issue 3:
Home
Annette Marie Hyder

Gardenia Petals

Every summer morning
mother picked gardenia flowers
cluttering the 'fridge
with water-filled jelly jars
boasting bouquets.

Every evening
she plucked them
like exotic chickens
scattered their petals
onto our sheets
cool and creamy soft
against my skin

I fell asleep
crushing her benedictions.

We had no air-conditioning
but we had electric fans
and gardenia petals.

Mother was young and pretty
with a French nose
that she quietly suffered.
I loved the way it said "arrogance"
where she never would.

Some nights
winds would blow the curtains wide.
Hurricane winds we called them
as they rustled the palm fronds
bullied mangoes from our tree.

Those nights
Mother would sing us old French songs
her mother had sung to her
lonely songs
filled with regret.

She sounded so sad
I forgot the wind
trying to make her smile.

That's when I
hated her big nose, too.
It got in the way
wouldn't let her smile
climb up into her eyes.

It is summer,
but I live in a colder place.
I have little occasion
to remember electric fans
and goodnight wishes
scattered on sheets

But when I do
I think of tears
falling like petals
from a flower in the wind.

~Annette Marie Hyder

Annette, a freelance writer, has had poetry published online and in print, with more forthcoming this fall and winter. Email.