chocolate is a verb

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Tag Archives: flowers

found poem: Just flower

found poem: flowers

found poem: SPRING’S

found poem: to engage

found poem: spring

found poem: flowers

found poem: ask the garden

found poem: the wind

found poem: air

found poem: confessional

found poem: limb

found poem: Living

found poem: fool

the garden’s…


the leaves…

in Emily’s garden…



command post…

bouquet…Moving into the new corporate suite seemed to mark a transition in Beverly’s character. She promoted herself to an elevated level of command. Her desk, which sat guard before a broad bank of locked files and cabinets, was surrounded by a moat of counter just outside of Hal’s elegant office with its birds-eye maple woodwork, in-suite bathroom (with shower) and crystal-stocked bar.

The office now echoed with alternate rounds of bickering and whispered collaboration between the two executive secretaries. The design of the space put all of the power in Beverly’s lap. Then again, there were three executives and only two assistants — something not perceived as a problem by the executives, but bitterly contested by Beverly and Tracy, who wanted to ‘belong’ to one man (of course the execs were men) exclusively.

The self-appointed arbiter of taste, etiquette and office politics, Beverly bossed everyone, including Tracy, and Tracy, who didn’t come naturally to the role, passed it along with a stiff-jawed meanness that was deeply resented among those who had previously counted her as a friend.

Beverly’s desk was always ornamented with a spectacular arrangement of fresh flowers created each week by the same Hollywood floral-designer-to-the-stars. This was far more than a splash of color; these were enormous, extravagant displays of excess: three dozen peonies in the middle of winter, exotic tropicals picked from the jungle the previous afternoon, and roses of hues, size, fragrance and number no one had ever imagined.

On special occasions, an additional arrangement, or two, would appear on her desk, always accompanied by an enclosure card that Beverly refused to share. Sometimes she managed a demure blush when questioned; often the occasion, like the sender, remained a secret. More than once, the flowers got out of hand, bouquets and plants and huge vases of lavish abundance lined so densely along her counter that Beverly disappeared behind them, the office resembling — and smelling like — a funeral parlor…
flower photo by Carol Gillott

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