Death Of A Flower

She cheated on her ten-year marriage
so her husband divorced her which made
beautiful, beautiful Maggie sad, withdrawing
into fetishes and otherworldlinesses
while her ex quickly married a co-worker,
causing Maggie intense melancholy,
enough to begin online dating and soon
to marry a rich, rich older man
who lived in an ignominious state
a thousand miles away, positively uncivilized,
but whose checks always cleared.
It was an efficient, small ceremony at which
the witness was a stranger from the street.
An impromptu reception was held
at nearby Cranky Jack’s Bar & Grill,
with about thirty acquaintances showing up
to congratulate the newlyweds and send them
on their way to that godforsaken state
about a thousand miles away.
But here’s the strange thing: amidst the bonhomie
and of course open bar free drinks,
there was not one physically attractive person.
They were all homely, ugly, or, on a good day,
nondescript.
What are the odds of that?

Soon all there was to sense,
all there was to remember,
all that remained was
the scent of the flower.