Phonetically

I typed out:
Everybody is going to die?
And then my phone rang
It was her voice
It was that voice
The one she reserved for the story of tragedy
The same one that told me I had to come rescue her
The one who was telling me
To clear my calender for another death in the family
I knew that voice so well
Bad news is not foreign to me
Unexpected departures
Were always delivered in her words

When the Saints

She knew how to pour wine
She knew how to keep cut flowers alive

I observed the way a bottle is held
I  trim the stems of my arrangements daily

Seems like someone should have sent me flowers today

I know it's too many glasses of wine
that has me expecting the unexpected all of the time

I know it's a preoccupation with love
that has me expecting flowers all of the time

Seems like she should be naked and elated right now