Celesté Cosme

Wherever She Is

Anemone is hard to say. 
A-ne-mo-ne. 
The mouth 
wants to form more familiar 
sounds—an enemy. 

Patch of white 
flowers in a field. 
Blooms opened by the wind 
soon torn away. 

An enemy. 

Fragile florets made beautiful 
and laid bare. 
Perhaps biologists took 
pity upon the plant; 
thus the sea anemone was named. 
Aquatic counterparts aren’t as weak 
as terrestrial buds. 
Small fish are devoured whole. 

Is there a counterpart 
to me, 
who does more 
than return each year 
to be opened and destroyed 
again? 

Surely, she would’ve locked 
the door when you left 
instead 
of letting you back in.
 

 
Celesté Cosme teaches high school English in New Jersey. She received her MFA from Rosemont College. She is the CNF editor at Philadelphia Stories. Her work appears in Pangyrus, South Florida Poetry Journal, (Mac)ro(Mic), and Rathalla Review. You can follow her on Twitter @celestemaria or read her works on celestecosme.com