jam jar · bedside · late winter · gathered by you
just the one. orange, faintly flamed, the petals showing their paler underside at the lip. the stem already bent toward whichever direction will become morning — tulips lean, after they are cut, toward the light they imagine.
the jam jar is plain. the label is from a plum preserve, two summers old, and it has half-peeled in the warmth of the candle. on the bedside table beside the watch and a glass of water that is no longer drinkable. you put it there last night. you put it there for no reason.
it will last four days. each day it will bend a little further and seem more alive for it.
field-note — a tulip keeps growing after it is cut. it lengthens by half an inch the first night. you can prove this if you make a small pencil mark on the jar at bedtime.
see also: red anemones · violets in a thimble · an apology bouquet · four a.m.