on the calendar that begins

on the calendar that begins
with you, we have
marked through eighty-six
mornings and countless nights.
i have already put away every
orchid that grew old and
every bud that did not
open. i will hold onto
these memories as if they
were ashes that did not
make it into your tomb


  1. slpmartin

    I like your opening line “on the calendar that begins with you” an exceptional line…love how you framed the rest of the poem.

  2. Glenn Buttkus

    Yes, your photo of orchid buds in a dish, or burning bowl, was the perfect compliment to this poem of continuance–transfering things from the poem on the previous day. I agree with slpmartin that /on the calendar that begins/with you/ is a lovely mood setter, and novel idea, that our loved ones all conjure up their own calendars within us, where we can share their individualistic perspectives enmasse, coloring our own–but then for you to make the poetic leap to create a calendar of grievance, a record of loss is a brilliant twist on most of our natures.

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