Willow Baskets

I wish I could offer you willow baskets
fat with the treasures of love that stream inside my ailing heart
in return for everything that you
do for me. There's so much ruined
inside me
each portion requires
weeks to thrive again. I can't care
about you now.
And sometimes you have to make peace
with the fact that you
cannot force yourself to love every Magnolia that drops near your door no matter
how much you adore Magnolia flowers.
Leave if after learning this fact, your life becomes unendurable. Or wait
if a few bubbles of patience are left in your dainty satchel.

Pardon me for saying
but you cannot compel a bruised person
to heal quickly and
bring back her blithe spirit for
I am not a bottle of cooking oil to be opened whenever you desire. I will be taking
some time. But my grim windows are open for you
to hop inside. They are also open for another reason: you can leave if you
find it tough to bear with me. There are bleeding corpses
of agony inside me
until I bury all of them, I am not ready to scatter
any new seeds.