Cosmos Chemos
Theodora Helgason

You invited the universe into your brownstone, the order and 
Harmony of these cosmos circling your garden of white marble and 
Greenest grass. And you took me to church even though I don’t believe 
In God (at least this one). Your being survives in the mind you made me:
I think it was the books. I was a reader and you were a reader and 
Together we read by the fire, into the night. Your doll-housed pearls 
Of wisdom and Mansion-sized morals taught me magic. I long for the day 
When I finally put cosmos on your marbled stone. It is my turn to bestow 
Magic. Your medicine was cosmos and chemos, and words and books.
I am sorry I have not brought you your cosmos, yet. You picked your 
Plot and we planted you in the earth like the flowers you held in your heart.​