I never felt quite old enough to use question marks in my poems, to ask the reader/universe for answers. That’s an old woman’s game, I thought.
 
Until I read Mark Doty’s Deep Lane.
 
He’s only four years older than me and, in his new book, 27 of his 35 poems sprout those tell-tale tendrils of doubt. 
 
How could I answer the child? Why shouldn’t the dead sport a little style? Can’t we be done with you?
 
Hmmm.
 
Maybe hmmm is what I write when I want to ask a question.
 

This advice may sound cranky and a little harsh but it’s for your own good. From one older lady to another.
 

• Your feet will fail you some day and you’ll end up crumpled on the floor. I guarantee it. So, sit on the floor. Every day. You need practice getting up.
• You will lose your mind if you stop walking. So lace up your sneakers today and move it.
• Your niece is not mumbling. You can’t hear. Get a hearing aid.
  

This advice may sound cranky and a little harsh but it’s for your own good. From one older lady to another.
 

• Gunk crusts your microwave and your fridge and your countertop. It’s not because you’re a slob. It’s because you trust your eyes. Instead, trust a damp dishcloth daily. Or a professional cleaning service. Unless you want to gross out your granddaughters.
• People with full dentures are not as happy as you think. They worry about smiling and eating which exhausts their good humor. So brush, floss, see your dentist, and replace missing teeth. You won’t miss the money.
• Your long-time friends will die and you’ll be lonely. So make younger friends now. You’ll need to tolerate their tedious complaints about menopause and marriage. But they will visit more often than your son.
  

From a florist, it sounded like heresy. Less is more. I expected to learn how to lasso explosive blooms into firework displays. But instead, in this floral arrangement class (at the library!), I learned how to forage for containers as well as botanicals in my neighborhood. And we made tiny arrangements with grasses and blooming weeds and pussy willows.
 
A dozen roses never roused such joy.