I wear a silken flower on my shoulder,
An orchid made of velvet and of lace,
Because a hard wind, driving through my garden,
Of its carousals left relentless trace
In broken stems and darkened leaves. This autumn
I wear a silken flower in their place.
My marble god lies broken in the garden,
But I will patch him till he looks like new,
So people will not guess that he is shattered,
A lifeless Eros made of stone and glue.
And since I’ve learned to patch, you needn’t love me
If but for a while you will pretend you do.
by Margaret Rucker, unpublished during her life (1907-1959). Her scrapbook was rescued from a garbage bin by Chicken John Rinaldi, and some of her works were published in a book and concept album about her by Jason Webley and friends in 2014.