Margaret Phalor Barnhart, 1994

THE YELLOW DAFFODILS

I didn't want the daffodils!
	-a gift from the ACS.
I took them only to be polite.
Daffodils are supposed to be a cheerful ray,
	a yellow, delicate creation.
I wanted to deny them a place in my hands
	as I left the hospital that day.
Why hadn't I given them to the old man
	in the room next to mine?
Why was I taking them home?
Why didn't I ask my husband to carry them?

They loomed large as I sat in the wheelchair
	being pushed through the corridor.
I considered dropping them in a wastebasket.
Surely they were the label that conveyed
	the message
	that I had cancer.

My anger told me to slam them to the floor
	to be crushed under the wheels
	as we moved through the halls.

At home they sat in a vase.
I hated looking at them
	and was glad
	when they died.