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by Sarah Sadie

Just yesterday, last week, three months ago,
I ordered flowers seven states away
and asked the card should say, oh, something trite:
Thinking Of You or Sending Love. Get Well.
Sight unseen. Who knows if they arrived
all right, were really what I ordered, or if
that family even likes that shade of pink?
Impossible distance to cross. I take it on faith
they'll realize what I meant. And now, you,

who I am closer to than any, which is
another arrangement, this time ordered by
two twenty-somethings romantically inclined
wide-eyed and promising (so sure they're right)
we're made for each other. Promised? They swore an oath,
took a vow. Then disappeared. Hello.
Good night. How was your day? Did you sleep?
Impossible distance. We take it on faith
and wait for the charge to come through.


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