I used to let the rich red flowers that sprout every month
dominate my garden
I couldn't- wouldn’t- undergo the embarrassment
of digging shears out of by bag  
And dragging them into the bathroom with me.
I couldn’t bear to leave the clippings in there,
perhaps I wouldn’t.
I wonder who made me ashamed of this red garden.
I wonder why they find it so thorny,
when these are not roses,
but tulips