DAY NINETY-FIVE – Jacob Polley

I Try to Explain a Flower

to my son, who would take apart
whatever caught his eye if
I let him. Something happens
in the dark to make boldness
a necessity. Yes, the flower is
saying something somehow,
and we must let it. Heartfelt.
It means the heart has little
hands and pats its pockets
like Daddy when he’s trying
to remember where he put
whatever it is he was supposed to
keep close. Yes, money most
of the time, or time, or keys
to home. No, you don’t need
one to open a flower. Money
is beautiful, in a way. Like lots
of things we might not see
for seeing all the time, or don’t
see but dream of. Dreaming
is a kind of worry, yes, and a
flower, happening as it does
in the dark. Someone knows
why, but not Daddy. Don’t
touch. You can feel by looking.
Then we’ll do something.



Jacob Polley’s third book of poems The Havocs (Picador 2012) received the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize. His website can be found at


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