Columbines

In the kingdom Plantae, in the ‘You stink,

Ophelia’ class, four of five columbines

mark the spot where I finally decided

to increase my social media profile.

O, Annie Facebook, Clarissa Twitter -

we’re going to the prom! I shed real tears

just because my poem for Beyoncé

was rejected by the Malahat Review.

Could the columbines be mashed into scent,

giving me a resilient mountain freshness?

The answer, after that long flight to Paris,

was a resounding absolutement pas.

Still, I knew I was going to pluck and pluck,

and I plucked until plucking became my life,

well beyond any interest in sowing

and its much-funner cousin reaping.