flowers, and american

yesterday lambros gave me ten unfurled red roses. when i came home from an ever-tedious day at work i found them waiting on my desk, long-stemmed and leaves every which way in a large teapot. he said "i left them for you to trim, you know what to do" and i did, but not until today. barely putting down my bag, hardly opening or closing doors, i poured myself some gin and cut their bottoms to fit the sharp-blue and white teapot, tearing leaves from stem in the gentle way of an unemployed gardener. they are redder and darker and looser by the hour.

in my in-between moments today (of proofreading and barrister-name-checking and clock-watching and crisis-of-misspelling-averting, oh i could say so much) i read up about appalachia, the whiskey rebellion, "the whole of west virginia" fitting into this constructed idea of americans living in poverty at the bases of mountains.